First Love
by S e r p e r i o r
Summary: -DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE- This story will remain up for those who want to read it. Sasori saw women as nothing of value other than being the servants of men, while Kagome refused to believe in men. Meeting each other ultimately changed both their views—and lives, as well. ო Deidara • Kagome • Sasori ო


**Disclaimer**: Nothing but the idea(s) belong to me.

**Author's** **Notes**: If you had already come upon this story in the past, and are confused, please check out my profile. Yes, this is many chapters mashed into one! Unbeta'd and raw, same as it was the day it was taken down by me. Sorry for the inconvenience, but this story is up here merely to hold its place until one day I come back for it. It is for the few who may wish to read it. That is my excuse for this one-chapter glob of a discontinued story. Either way, enjoy! ^_^

**Navigation Tip**: Press "CTRL" + "F" and type in "Chapter Three" if you wish to jump to that chapter. "Chapter Four," "Chapter Five," and so on.

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_**First Love**_

© x0SilverFeathersx0, 2005

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**Chapter One: Sweet Naïvety**

_My name is Higurashi Kagome, and these are the recollections of my life; starting from the night I met a particularly unforgettable man. I lose myself in my memories now and then, just so I can try and picture his face once more in my mind. Over the several years I might have begun to forget some very important details, though one feature will forever stay engraved in my heart—his eyes. It's true, I'll admit: merely one, spellbinding gaze from those captivating eyes was all it had taken to trigger the ultimate change in my life… _

"Oh jolly, that bad ol' yakuza's come to grace our place with their presence again," snorted a tired-looking woman in her late forties. She stood behind a bar shining dainty cocktail glasses while simultaneously tidying the encompassing area around her.

A much more youthful and optimistic looking female across from her, who seemed to have only recently entered her early twenties, assisted where she could; a white rag dutifully at hand. She wore a smile of amusement on her lips as she listened to her humorously exasperated superior complain.

"I mean really, if I weren't so worried about getting shot for mouthing off, I'd tell those kids to scramble out of here."

After managing to wipe an especially irritating smudge into oblivion, the younger woman lifted her chin, offering her full, undivided attention. She replied, "If we have to be honest though, even if they're an 'illegal criminal syndicate,' they can't be _that_ bad, right? It's not as if you don't see that sort of thing in here every day." Her words were truthful, to a certain degree, but they also revealed her obvious naïvety. In response she received a dropped jaw and an astonished expression from her aged companion and co-worker.

Then the gregarious bartender, regaining her composure and façade, chided, "Listen kid, you're new here so I won't blame you for not knowing…but you _really_ need to know your gangs. That one"—she inclined her head toward the table seating a number of dark-clad figures, "—is _Akatsuki_: notorious, merciless, and highly unpredictable. Though another distinctive attribute—this one spread mostly by the girlies—it's so well-known is, with all due credit, because of the many…how should I put it…_pretty _boys, in it." Setting down the glass artwork she had just finished fancying, she picked up another and restarted the monotonous process. "Not to mention there are some rare oddities within them, as well."

"So you're basically saying…they're even _worse_ than the usual jerks that swing around, and I should be on my toes?" The younger woman's inquiry was answered with a grave nod, and she brought a fist to her mouth in order to stifle her laughter. To her it sounded silly and was entertainingly difficult to imagine: a medley of supposedly _beautiful_ men prancing around, acting like the big dogs. That was—

"Hey, can we get some fucking _service_ here? It's been like fifteen minutes!" resounded a querulous, bumptious shout from behind her back.

The raven-haired woman twisted her torso to see who it was that had spoken so tastelessly. Having pinpointed the culprit to be a silver-haired man sitting at the table of Akatsuki members, she scrutinized him with a disapproving look. By chance their eyes met, and upon ensnaring her attention (and seeing her waitress uniform), he wheeled it in completely by intensifying his impatient glare.

"Seem like you'll get some experience head-on. Good luck!" said the bartender with a chuckle.

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**Chapter Two: From the Moment I Saw You**

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_That night was the first time I actually came into contact with this strange 'Akatsuki' and a select few of its members. Honestly, the initial impression I received of them was really, really bad. In fact a more appropriate term to use would be "downright terrible." To me, their group seemed like nothing but trouble. A mixed variety of badmouthed, oddly-skinned, condescending jerks. With the exception of one peculiar character—no, not him—who hid his complexion behind an unusual, swirly orange mask, and spoke as if there were helium present in his lungs. But goodness, how could I ever forget the single man who made that evening…a memorable evening?_

"About damn time," complained the silver-haired young man as his table's waitress scurried over. She was dressed in a refreshing white blouse and black skirt ending mid-thigh, her hair tied back in a high ponytail. She resisted the urge to bestow upon him an incredibly dirty glare and instead submissively reached into the front pocket of her apron. Trading in her white rag for a notepad and ballpoint pen, she readied the paper material in her left palm; right hand positioned over it with the pen.

She cleared her throat and spoke with a well-practiced, amiable smile, "Hey, everyone, I'm Higurashi Kagome and I'll be your server for the ni—"

"We would like the usual," a frigid and mysterious voice clipped, promptly cutting her off.

The waitress's eyes roamed a bit to the side, and found the person who had interrupted her. He was a male with a rather suspicious appearance: spiky hair and overshadowed features. That was something odd for sure, but Kagome had gotten used to seeing weird things and even weirder _people_ in the bar since her employment thus far. After all, the place was a hot spot for criminals and law-benders of all ages, gangs and so forth.

Her ego somewhat bruised and not appreciating the aggregate attitudes of her customers (who were rather less pleasant than some of the other regular patrons), Kagome moodily scribbled on her notepad, The Usual, in slipshod cursive, and clicked her pen before placing it back in her pocket. Not wanting to forget her manners despite the situation, she acknowledged the crude group of men with a nod and fake grin before informing them, "Your order will be ready in no time!" Then she briskly walked away from the table, this time without cracking a smile. Still holding onto the notepad in her upraised left hand, she began to rhythmically tap its surface with her thumbnail.

When the old woman behind the bar saw Kagome return, she snickered like a child who had torn the wings off a bug and thoroughly enjoyed it.

"So, how was it?" she questioned airily, the amusement in her tone tangible.

The younger female sighed before propping her forearms atop the wooden surface before her. A heavy scoff of disbelief escaped the waitress's lips. Drawing in a breath, she moved aside her notepad and then slammed a petite fist on the oaken table. Her answer was ground out with a sour expression. "I get that they're supposed to be 'bad boys,' but seriously, those guys are…" Unable to find the oh-so perfect words (or ones that would fit) to describe the gang she'd just encountered, Kagome kept quiet and allowed her sentence to trail off.

"Let me take a wild guess: Big time jerks? Dickheads? In need of getting laid_?_ Anything under that category?" asked the bartender with her arms crossed, finger wagging in tempo.

"Well…yeah!" Kagome agreed wholeheartedly, fist plopping down again to evince her transient passion. Then, brow furrowing in thought, she corrected herself, "Well…actually, they probably get enough of that last one, so it's not that they need to 'get laid,' necessarily…" She quieted, having dug for herself an awkward hole, her innocence showing momentarily. "But _yeah_, I agree: they're cocky jerks."

Turning to an assortments of bottles of champagne and more, the bartender chuckled. "Dear I've heard it all. But landing back to reality—talking shit about those gentlemen behind their backs isn't gonna stop them from continuously visiting this place as regular customers. Big paying ones, at that!"

Enchanting colors of crimson and fuchsia sloshed and mixed together as they were poured in unison and amalgamated in several wineglasses.

Kagome sighed, head down in defeat. "They want their usual."

Indeed here in the place, that she only recently started working for, customers were customers. Patrons who paid handsomely and visited often or in sizable parties (or both) were to be shown slight favoritism, in order to keep their loyalties with their place of business.

The bartender nodded absentmindedly as she performed her trained techniques, which involved all the right moves, such as stirring at the correct instant and precisely how fast. Kagome enjoyed watching her assemble the concoctions, it was rather amazing how much skills they truly required in being made. Each time the liquids swished in their expensive glasses she would concentrate on the mini-waves to see if she could distinguish the colors of the differing ingredients.

At the moment she was the only waitress working during her shift in the small pub and had no one else to converse with at work other than the bartender, so this was usually how she squandered time. It would've been nice if she could obtain better chances to speak with the bar singer, Ookami Ayame (who was currently on break), more often but the latter was always busy serenading the demanding customers. Her songs ranged from mellow, soothing tones, to perkily upbeat ones…

"Come to think about it, you knew exactly how I felt about those guys. It's not really important, but were there other girls that went through the same thing as me?" inquired Kagome.

If the old woman's back wasn't to her, she would've seen a mischievous smile suffuse her aging face.

The young lady let her eyes wander down to the surface of the shiny counter, where she saw her crystalline reflection. A strand of hair was out of place, and while scrutinizing her image, Kagome fixed it, along with any other visible imperfections that could be helped. She couldn't afford looking anything but tip-top shape in front of this _Akatsuki_.

…and they sure knew how to make her feel extremely self-conscious.

Lips puckered thoughtfully, the older woman cryptically replied, "Oh, you know…little girlies like you are constantly coming and going. They manage to get a job here and either stay for a while or no time at all before leaving soon after. As the bartender I'm always coupled with at least one waitress's company. So it goes without saying that I hear whatever comments or complaints the girls have to say. To be frank, I'm hoping that we'll be able to stop hiring new ones so frequently." The last was said with a bit of humor.

Kagome huffed, her arms crossed. "I know I just recently started here and that's why I haven't met this 'Akatsuki' before, but I promise…I would never give up my job just because some brutes I serve don't have a sense of courtesy; you can be sure on that!" To emphasize her point she turned her upper body back to stare at said particular group of men. To her they didn't seem like a very excitable and happy bunch. All of them were either dressed in a white flannel and black slacks, topped with a fancy onyx jacket (hung over their chairs, for some) or high-collared cloaks with the design of red clouds. A few individuals of the group were partaking in separate conversations, but the rest were silent and probably in their own little worlds…_scheming_.

She presumed trouble was about to rear its ugly head because a male blonde of their gang appeared to be verbalizing rather evident death threats to a shady-looking character across him on the table. From what Kagome could see of the apparent victim's back, she noticed he had short, spiky black hair and his hands were raised before him defensively, moving frantically.

As she continued her perusal, Kagome found that there was even a blue man among them. A _blue_ man, to clarify. Just how amazing was plastic surgery getting these days, especially with all the evolving technology? She mentally shivered at the thought of her own light pigment turning into an aqueous stretch of flesh. Everyone besides that single person so far appeared natural enough to pass as a normal person.

Then from scanning clearly across, she saw _him_, and was swept over with incredulity.

"What—?" she gasped, eyes wide. A man whose revealed body was painted half-black and half-white, had a ginormous plant that looked like an opened Venus fly trap guarding his head. "Talk about safety measures. At least he won't have a problem with flies…"

She was soon pulled out of her own distorted world when she raised her chin again, determined to silently ridicule Akatsuki once more. This time her gaze met that of another's, unmistakably staring straight back at her. Kagome's breath hitched in her throat, and with her silly giggles gone she felt as though a strange kind of power had tied her soul down on the spot. She found herself unable to turn away from a pair of carmine orbs. They were heated like molten flame, but gave the paradoxical impression of also being icy like the nipping winter breeze.

Frozen, as if she had been put under an enchantment, Kagome's inner thoughts came to a screeching halt. The eclectic mix of voices in the pub were silenced, and the entire galaxy went mute—or she went deaf.

Did this man mean to subdue her like this?

"Kagome…_Ka-go-me_!"

Immediately snapped out of her reverie-like state, the girl spun back to her original position. She must've appeared rather hazy, for the look she received from the bartender told her just that.

"Are you okay? Seems like you were zoning out pretty badly," said the woman with concern as she passed a circular silver tray full of drinks into the younger lady's care. "You wanna go home early, hun?"

Kagome shook her head and gave a reassuring smile. "Just, um, spaced out that's all. Must be tired. Already, uh"—the waitress glanced hastily at the clock, "—midnight, you know! Well…be right back!"

The bartender watched her go off toward her destination, and chuckled good-naturedly to herself.

"You better be the girl to stay."

She habitually grabbed her pearly white cloth, which had earlier been discarded on the counter's surface, and continued shining wineglasses, all the while keeping her eyes fixated on the scene playing out ahead of her. So distracted was she, that the old woman missed a fingerprint mark on one of the glass delicacies—which was quite a _rare_ mistake for her to make…

"Thank you for your patience, your order has arrived!" Kagome chirped as she approached the table occupied by Akatsuki. She had the tray balanced artfully on the palm of her left hand and was ready to pass out the wineglasses. Though a problem suddenly popped into her mind: she didn't know _who_ ordered _what_! Even if it were silly to imagine, what if these men grew irritable because she didn't know what to pass to whom? Since they called it their "usual" they may have expected for her to know everything already. Never having been the type to enjoy when a person was irked by any of her mistakes, regardless of _who_ they were, she mentally considered what each of them appeared as though they would order.

But that was idiotic and nonsensical of her—because by no means was it logical.

An image of the _wordy _silver-haired man throwing a fit entered her mental vision, and she swallowed thickly.

_Wait. I'm not dumb, am I…? Why am I panicking over something so ridiculous?_ Picking from her selection an exquisite piece, she planned to lay it in front of the obscurest person—the one with navy-colored hair, decorated with a single blossom—until a man with silky black hair and piercing obsidian eyes to boot, raised a hand ever so slightly, just to let her get his signal. Relieved for many reasons (inept ones) unnamed or thought of, she gladly laid his drink in front of him.

That same tactic was repeated afterwards, with differentiations here and there. Kagome actually felt quite relieved throughout most of it, though somewhat awkward as well. When down to her second-to-last handout, she raised a quizzical brow. The yellow liquid inside was smooth and undisturbed, and bubbly. It smelled sweet and tangy.

_Freshly squeezed orange juice—they serve this here?_ she questioned herself with amazement.

"Oh, Miss! That's mine," declared a squeamish voice.

Kagome nodded and handed it to the speaker, along with an unopened straw from her pocket. It was the masked boy whose head she'd seen from the back earlier, when his blonde friend with the ponytail had been more than displeased with him.

"Thank you very much," he said, and the waitress had to fight against the urge to plaster on her features a surprised look, keeping her exaggerated shock to a minimum.

So there actually _were_ some gentlemen in this badly reputed organization!

Appreciating his gratitude even if it were over something minute, the gratified woman smiled warmly. "You're welcome!"

He lowered his head as if to avoid direct eye contact, even though his countenance was already thoroughly hidden. Kagome could've sworn the boy reminded her of a shy child and imagined him, for a split-second, blushing under his strange facial accessory. He couldn't have been too old, judging by his actions and high-pitched voice.

Thereafter, one wine was left, and she seized it nimbly. Knowing exactly who it belonged to, she made sure her grip was secure. Who knew what could possibly happen if she gazed into his entrancing eyes again? The waitress had purposely hoped he would be the last to serve, rather unnerved by the thought of having any_more_ contact with him. It vexed her how easily she had fallen last time when having faced him in the distance. This time, she would ignore him _and_ his eyes. What had ensued earlier was unacceptable…_and devilishly mesmerizing_, though she would never admit it.

Walking a few steps to the right of the table, she reached the man and proceeded to set down his order. She gained a better look at him from the upper angle, with the light shining down from above. He had red hair framing his face and was one of the few men wearing the white flannel, collar propped up, with complementing black slacks. Kagome had to wonder if he enjoyed giving off the impression of being classy, since he appeared the type. He smelled…rather nice for a _criminal_ too, a masculine scent mixed with rich, expensive cologne that was natural and pleasing at the same time.

Her hand, wrapped around the glass, steadily descended until the bottom collided harmlessly against the table's surface with a delicate _kink_.

Everything felt painfully like an eternity, playing along in slow motion.

"Enjoy, gentlemen," she said, bowing and excusing herself from the group to return to her work station.

For the rest of the night she helped out around the counter, chatting with some of the lonely (and bearable) souls that dropped by now and then to her turf of the pub, or serving new customers. Akatsuki stayed approximately two hours, discussing whatever it was men of their questionable interests discussed. Sometime later the raven-haired woman discreetly surveyed their table again, though this time she was just barely, _faintly,_ interested in one individual.

Brown doe eyes met bittersweet carmine again that night, and this time there wasn't so much tension in between. It was Kagome who broke the trance by testily narrowing her eyes at him, before casually shaking her head to get a hold of herself and heading off to a different section of the pub.

The man smirked, and took a sip of his wine.

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**Chapter Three: I'll Never Cry**

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_I grew up wonderfully as a little girl. My family—which consisted of two loving parents, an overly excitable yet just as precious grandfather, a typical annoying and adorable younger brother, and an obese cat—and I had resided in a quaint house atop an honorable, antiqued shrine. Home-cooked meals were the regular for me, and I was dressed in cute flowery skirts and dresses daily, and seen to bed each night by my doting mother. My decorous father was the one who took upon himself the task of teaching me manners, etiquette and morals; whilst history and knowledge was passed down to me from my erudite grandfather. There was nothing I lacked, nothing else I wanted (aside from the newest dolls imported via America). I sometimes wish that back then I'd been more grateful. To have been able to realize what I had and count all my blessings. Though, then again…no child is such a saint, right? _

In a spacious room with walls of white, the soothing quality of serenity bloomed all over. Slanted rays of the magnificent sun percolated through semi-closed blinds. The pacific chamber's tranquil ambiance was unaffected by the soft snores reverberating throughout it. The noise could be traced back to a cushiony bed sporting white and cerulean colors. On it a woman was slumbering comfortably on her left side, blankets kicked aside and arms wrapped around a fluffed up pillow. A silly, dreamy grin was plastered on her face, and a sliver of saliva shimmered at the corner of her semi-gaping mouth.

Her abstract envisioning was soon to be ended, however, by a dutiful silver digital clock hell-bent on making her every morning miserable.

There was a very good reason for it being situated so far away from where she slept, and it was so Kagome would actually have to _get up_ out of bed and walk a fair distance to turn the bomb off when it exploded. No other methods worked as well with her, in terms of separating her from her bed. The small piece of technology was situated on an oak dresser, and numbers gleamed an evil neon green upon a black background, awaiting the designated time.

Minutes more elapsed, until finally the numeric symbols morphed to 9:45 P.M., and the loud radio alarm was triggered: "…_which concludes our daily report on what's happening out there. Don't forget to dress appropriately before you come out of the house folks, because our weather_…" The deafening, nearly maxed out volume of the newsman speaking ricocheted off the walls in the closed capacity, and blared relentlessly in Kagome's ears. Instincts panicking from the drastic change of silence to a discordant racket, she shot up instantly and raced blindly to the booming source of it all. Swiftly she pounded a button labeled "Alarm Off," and the sanctuary that was her bedroom once again slipped into quietude.

Another spectactular save performed by Higurashi.

Reaching her arms up toward the ceiling, the woman stretched lazily in a feline-like manner. She yawned widely, before concluding the first of her morning rituals and languidly heading out the door in search of the bathroom, scratching her head, trying to purge herself of that just-woken-up haze. Nearly every single day she followed this exact routine—clock and itchy head and all.

Brain remaining unstimulated and incapable of functioning properly just yet, Kagome stared vapidly into the restroom mirror while mechanically grabbing for her toothbrush and paste. Squeezing the tube with an adequate amount of strength, a pretty gel compound of sparkling green was forced out of the plastic hole, and she relocated it to the bristles of her long-lived dental instrument. (_Huh…maybe I should…replace it…been a while…_) Then she screwed back on the cap and set it next to the sink. For the following two minutes the somnolent woman did naught but groom her teeth; relishing the crisp, minty taste as her senses started to reawaken.

She spat out the used paste and twisted the sink's metal right knob to summon water. Gathering an ample amount in her cupped hands, she scooped the cold liquid into her mouth and tilted her head back to gargle for a good, practiced ten seconds. _Grrg, grrg, grrg…_

This step was repeated once more before she rinsed her toothbrush well, and stowed it back away.

Kagome then splashed her face to moisturize it, and proceeded to make use of the face cleanser on the counter; extracting some of its contents. She rubbed it vigorously between her palms to produce a bubbly texture, and then applied it over her forehead, cheeks, nose, eyes and lips. The scenario was finished when, for the last time, she rinsed her skin with water. Beads of it materialized in the air, only to end up in the drain subsequently. She stopped the water and grabbed the nearest towel, patting her rejuvenated complexion dry.

"Here's to a brand new day!" she twittered buoyantly to no one in particular, beaming brightly at her reflection; damp cloth at hand. With a light sigh, she strolled out into the hallway.

As her feet padded gently against the carpet floor, her nostrils got hold of a scrumptious odor emanating from the kitchen, permeating through the household. At the site of where it originated from, she found another woman working attentively at the stove, flipping roasted sausages and pancakes with expertise. The food was by now ready, and the cook transferred the steamy goods onto a pair of matching, shiny white plates. Kagome inhaled deeply, appreciating the mouthwatering smell that was her breakfast.

"Let's eat," chimed Sango cheerfully, already knowing she was there; her high ponytail swishing from side to side as she laid the food out on a femininely designed, medium-sized dining table.

Simultaneously taking their seats, the ladies grabbed hold of the silver forks and knives already set out in front of them.

"Itadakimasu!" they chorused, then dug into their first and most vital meal of the day.

Swallowing a chunk of peppered meat, the brunette looked at Kagome. "Just to remind you, tonight's your turn to do something about dinner. I'll be home at around, say, seven?"

The other woman ceased the cutting of her floury flapjacks, and she then thoughtfully tapped her lower lip with the pronged tool in her grasp. "Oh, I almost forgot. Well, since I don't work today I'll restock the fridge too since it's running low. And since I need to make a run to the hospital, I'll come home after and cook." A spark of realization then lit up Kagome's eyes. "But…how come you're getting off much later than usual today? Doesn't your shift end at around five on Saturdays…_Sango-chan?_" Near the end she had adopted a teasing tone.

Bashful silence reared its head.

"Um, erm…i-it's…just…" Sango stalled, unsure of how to make up for her abruptly exposed secret. Her olive cheeks blushed furiously, and she averted her gaze to the doorway ahead in a lame attempt to avoid oncoming embarrassment. Cornered like a deer in the headlights, she slowly placed down her fork, and relocated her fidgeting hands between her thighs in a self-conscious fashion.

Kagome's eyes were narrowed knowingly, twinkling, and her lips puckered humorously. "_Go on_."

Aware that she was merely prolonging the inevitable, Sango sighed and quietly admitted, "Well, there's this…guy, I met at work recently. I sort of have…a little _interest _in him, I guess." The room was eerily quiet, and that signified to her that more information was necessary. "Yesterday he asked if I wanted to go out for coffee after our shifts were over…and I said yes."

Grinning, Kagome said, "That's great, Sango-chan! I'm happy for you!"

The slightly older woman reddened before laughing nervously, protesting, "It's not like him and I _officially_ have a thing going on—the way you act about it, you'd think I might be getting married!"

Kagome quickly devoured a last bite of her meal, before easing the food down her throat with a drink of water. "Sure, Sango-chan. _You_ know, and _I_ know, that when _you _have your eyes set on a guy, he must be something abnormal since he stands out so much from the rest."

"Do you _have_ to call him—?"

Raising her hands in defense, Kagome replied jokingly, "Alright, alright! I meant _special_, or _unique_; is that better?"

"Much."

The women laughed in unison while Kagome gathered her used utensils and cleared plate to deposit them in the dishwasher. She turned back to Sango who was following her exact procedure.

"So, what's the lucky fella's name?"

—

The grandfather clock residing beside the main entranceway boisterously chimed a harmonious melody; apprising the household that a new hour had begun.

Kagome emerged from her room wearing a formfitting white sweatshirt and skin-tight, faded black jeans. Slipping on a pair of chalky colored flats at the doormat, she grabbed her keys off the counter and exited her toasty home. From outside she locked the door, an assuring _click_ confirming the wanted results of her procedure. The woman shivered as the strong winds of mid-fall mercilessly pelted her on the way to the parking lot. Once she slipped into her car, she started the engine and turned up the heater. Her vehicle was somewhat nice compared to what her other peers drove, but it wasn't the fanciest. Just decent, and that was fine with her.

To her pleasure, the temperature inside began to rise and she maneuvered the shift lever, before stepping on the pedal and carefully pulling out of the parking space. Then she repeated the action with small variations, and drove away from the apartment complex and out onto the road. The humble abode shrank into nothingness until it dissipated totally from view in her automobile's side mirror.

She'd been living with Tajiya Sango for a few years now, and her tight relationship with the slightly older female could've been the type siblings shared. That's what they were after all; the only impediment to that being they were not related by blood. But that meant zilch. Together they laughed, argued, gossiped, cried, did frivolous things for entertainment, shared their moments of success, and so much more. Undoubtedly, the two women peeved each other now and then—no doubt about that, like any two _sisters_—but in the end, Kagome was always glad to have her best friend with her.

Their firm relationship had started less than five years ago, when the two freshmen had been paired off systematically as roommates at their college. At first they'd spoken very little to one another and merely greeted each other out of politeness, before parting to frolic in differing cliques. It was the fateful incident of Kagome catching her boyfriend indubitably cheating on her that triggered their promising friendship. Sango, being the compassionate soul she was, had surrendered a generous portion of her own free time to try and console her through her depressed times. Who knows what might have happened if she hadn't—those had been dark times for Kagome.

And well, them being females, it wasn't hard to figure out the rest that had happened: their relationship had flourished over time.

After finishing their senior year and graduating, they had agreed on a bold decision to rent an apartment together. They had grown so used to each other's presence and knew they could rely on one another; and not to mention most importantly: there were simply more benefits to rooming with someone responsible, at least while you were still somewhat young in life. Each of them paid half the bills, not including the other's personal usages, like cell phone costs. That's how life so far was going, and it was flowing smoothly.

On matters revolving around family backgrounds, Sango had a brother and father at home. Her mother had passed away when she was still in high school, which had been a tragedy for her as they had apparently shared a very close bond. No doubt, the Tajiya patriarch had endured a burdensome task working by himself, and the sole reason she'd been able to attend college was due to her own diligent work habits (namely, a scholarship from her excelling at women's soccer). Presently, she strove just as determinedly in the business career, amassing money to pay for her brother's tuition in the upcoming future.

As for herself, back home she had an aging mother and younger male sibling. The venerable grandfather she'd lived with long ago had perished due to a heart attack; finally caving in to his gradually weakened health. Her family cat Buyo had also passed away years ago into the better feline life. In regards to her father, he was now being taken care of by health professionals, and she visited him in timely intervals. Her rebellious brother, Souta, after finishing secondary school had not continued any further on the road of education. His mother had tried persuading him otherwise, but the strong will in his decision never gave way. She had once driven all the way back home to lecture him and evince her disapproval. Her approach had not worked either, and only succeeded in drawing forth uproar that night, as well as tension between siblings.

_Listen—are you gonna leech off mama forever? I'm telling you, just persevere through four more years, or you'll regret it as an adult! Is it really that_ _hard? Jeez!_

_Stop treating me like I'm still a kid! Just because you're the older sibling doesn't mean I have to follow in your footsteps…and _my _life will be damn well great the way I lead it! _

He had indeed attained a job, but it was the dreadful sort where one could toil for up to ten hours a day while receiving minimum wages that were difficult to live off of. Kagome didn't know where or for what sort of company he worked for, since the heat of their argument, to this day, had yet to cool off. She knew only bits and pieces, credits to her mother, who always informed her of what was currently going on over the phone. Thus, Souta still lived with their single parent, and had yet to purchase all the things he said he would: his own home, car, necessities. That was probably the main reason as to why he wasn't willing to make up over the fight: he'd clearly declared some big things, saying they would happen; and they never did.

_Men and their overrated pride,_ Kagome scoffed mentally. Her fingers twitched on the steering wheel. _Still_…_it _would _be nice if he gave me a call now and then_…_or at least stopped avoiding the ones I_ _make…_

The stoplight ahead switched from green to yellow, and she complied as it demanded her to yield. Red was now glowing, and the woman's eyes shifted to the display of daily Tokyo life. Tons of people in the admixture of adults, teenagers and kids walked, frolicked, skipped, sprinted or jogged to wherever they were headed.

Her brows knitted together in suspicion (_What's going on?_) as she then caught sight of a tiny alleyway, easy to overlook, and what appeared to be injustice ensuing in it. A girl, who could be no older than sixteen, was playing a futile game of tug-o-war with her purse against a pair of men dressed conspicuously. If you'd seen a fair amount of criminals in your lifetime, you could tell straightaway that these were the lower kind. For Kagome it was already easy to distinguish the 'classes,' thanks to her new employment at the pub.

Before, she'd seen all culprits as dumb brutes with nothing else on their minds except how to rob the next bank. Her opinion on that aspect hadn't drastically changed—she just had more to add now. Criminals came in many flavors of the rainbow: some hideous, some a bit handsome, some intelligent, and some not so intelligent, ranging from those that snatched purses on the streets to those of…greater enormities. Nevertheless, she was firm in the idea that anyone who committed crimes deserved a good timeout in jail.

By now, the victimized girl's pocketbook had been jerked out of her clutches, and she cried out, begging the men to give it back. There must have been something precious within, judging by her frantic reaction. The girl was going hysterical, tearing up like no tomorrow. Kagome's grip on the hand wheel tightened, inwardly steaming and about ready to hop out of her car and teach those shameless duds a thing or two.

Considering her options Kagome glanced back, and was astonished (as well as relieved) when she saw a teenage male clothed in school attire standing protectively in front of the girl. He advanced forward, hands stuffed into his pockets; the quintessential bad-boy from a Japanese drama episode, and—

"HEY GO ALREADY!" bellowed a random and _angry_ feminine voice from behind.

"WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY HERE!" another joined.

"I HAVE KIDS TO PICK UP!" roared the third.

The honks which had long since been trying to reach her hearing with failed results, now rattled her ears.

Seeing that the stoplight currently starred a vibrant green, Kagome tittered nervously, before stepping on the gas pedal to put her car back in motion.

Rule number one: never get distracted for too long on the streets of Tokyo, lest you have bloodthirsty old women screeching at you like banshees.

—

"Good afternoon, Kagome-nee-san!" greeted a cheery, doe-eyed young nurse. Her diminutive body was clothed in a spotless, crisp white uniform; brown locks cascading freely down her back.

The one addressed smiled fondly and replied, "Rin-chan, it's good to see you! How's your community service going?"

The adolescent girl grinne toothily. "It's fantastic! Working with the patients here really is my passion." She then snapped her fingers. "Ah, and you have perfect timing, because I was just about to go check on Sabishii-san. He got moved into a new area, so I'll escort you there."

Kagome beamed at the enthusiastic girl. "That'd be great, thank you!"

They were off to their destination; gliding past health professionals and their dependents in the hallway.

Rin was a volunteer worker at the hospital, an aspiring high school student, and also the adopted daughter of Taisho Sesshoumaru.

The man himself was filthy rich, powerful, cold, uncaring, and half-brother to Kagome's ex boyfriend. She had met all three of them years back, but at the moment could care less about the male siblings. As for the girl—she simply adored her. Rin was such a benign soul, and cared immensely for the world along with its people. Rare as they come, she was the type of person who believed in good karma and in giving renewed chances. Connecting hearts with those in need was an act she loved to practice, hence why she was here. The blossoming young lady had said that more than anything else, it made her joyful in being able to assist others.

Often, Kagome had told her in a jesting tone that she didn't deserve the cruel fate of having an emotionless rock as her father and a temperamental showoff as her uncle. Rin would laugh, and then proceed to explain that the Taisho brothers were not bad, they just had 'interesting' ways of communicating with others.

The pair came to a halt in front of a door sporting the digits "87" above it. To the right was a large, rectangular window providing a generous view of the inside. Rin grabbed hold of the knob, twisted it and gently pushed forward. A light creaking scraped at their ears. Spacious, yet rather empty, in the center of the room there was a low white table with two matching chairs; open books and other objects situated atop it. The softcovers were obviously meant for kids; the sentences were short and every page depicted colorful images. Elsewhere, set in the corner was a single-sized bed, and sitting on top of its disheveled covers, staring inactively into space, was a grown man in his mid-fifties.

Calmly making her way to him, Kagome knelt down in front of the patient and gingerly gathered his limp hands into hers. "Hello, otou-san. How are you doing today? I came to visit you," she said, smiling up at him.

"Kun-Loon?" questioned the patient, his eyes losing their faraway tinge. "No, no, that's my son…"

The woman shook her head and corrected him leniently, "No, she is your _wife_, and _Souta_ is your son. I"—she gave Sabishii's metacarpals a squeeze, "—am your daughter Kagome."

Rin speedily cleaned up the mess of items on the furniture before leaving, wanting to provide the two their privacy.

"Kagome…_doesn't ring a bell_!" the grown man joked, unleashing a peal of puerile laughter. He missed the hurt look in his daughter's eyes as she forced herself to chuckle lowly with him. "Like the phrase I used? I overheard a doctor saying it—and just had to steal it! Imagine how angry he'd be if he found out…promise me you won't tell!"

If she were still the same as long ago, by now Kagome would have either been frustrated for feeling as though she were conversing with a child, or broken down to sobs because her parent was in such a degraded state. Yet after so many bygone episodes of just those things, she had willed herself to appear strong—at least on the outside. Anger or tears wouldn't solve anything, not at this point. She had painfully instilled that fact into her head, and decided instead to do whatever she could for her beloved father. But that never made things any less painful each time she visited him.

The woman nodded faithfully and willed herself to smile. "I can see why you wanted it so badly, it's a really nice phrase. And I would never think of telling on you, so don't worry." She paused, before continuing thoughtfully, "But remember, otou-san, it's not good to steal."

Rin watched the pair from outside, the natural sympathy in her heart bubbling forth. With a sigh, she tore herself away, deciding to go check up on other patients.

As she turned right, about to travel forward, a man suddenly came into sight, hands hidden inside his pockets. Startled, her eyes widened for a second, realizing she hadn't known he was there before. He was dressed in a silky brown dress shirt that brought out the sensual shades of his eyes, its first button undone; and black slacks. He was handsome in a sophisticated, charismatic way. The mysterious stranger appeared to be observing Kagome and her father through the transparent glass.

Rin collected herself. "Excuse me sir, may I help you?"

His attention went to her, unhurried, and he responded coolly, "No, I'm fine, thank you."

Nodding, Rin walked away from him, a shiver going down her spine. Something about him gave her an odd feeling. She pondered on whether he was maybe Kagome's friend or acquaintance, and why he was spectating the interaction between her and her father. Perhaps those questions would be answered another day. In the meanwhile, several new guests looked like they could use assistance getting directions. Sighing blissfully, Rin thanked the gods for having given her the opportunity to work in such a place; a part-time occupation that made her feel needed and helpful.

—

"I want to show you something really nice," Sabishii excitedly whispered.

Receiving a nod of approval from his daughter, he turned to his pillow on the mattress.

While waiting patiently for whatever he was to retrieve, Kagome's gaze wandered to the other part of the room. It was bland. She switched over to where the entrance door was.

Her brows lifted in surprise when she locked eyes with another, uncannily familiar pair—

"Here it is! Look, it's beautiful," her father piped, drawing back her attention.

Sabishii handed her a wrinkled photograph.

When she examined it, a heavy boulder crushed her heart. The woman's eyes suddenly moistened, a tad more than she wanted them to. A little flame formed in her throat, burning it. She brought a hand to her lips. "Otou-san, this…"

The photo was from more than a decade ago, a memory of when the Higurashi household had still been complete. There was a woman with curly hair, and her healthy husband with his arm around her waist. He looked perfectly fine and normal, and nothing could have been wrong with him. Next to them was a simpering old grandfather, a broom clutched dedicatedly between his wizened fingers. Below the adults and grandparent stood two kids: the smallest a male, embracing the life out of his corpulent cat, and a younger Kagome next to him. She was simply beatific—their whole family was.

Older and present-time Kagome dared not speak. A whole minute might have passed in quiet.

Then, she suddenly rose and dove forward to envelop her father in a tight hug. The fabric at his shoulder grew damp.

Sabishii, assuming her reaction was a positive one, patted her head awkwardly with his left palm. "…you like it too, don't you?"

His face impassive, the stranger outside spared not another glance, and abandoned the scene.

—

"Hey, danna, what took you so long?" demanded a blonde male from the driver's seat, half of his hair tied back in a high ponytail. "I was waiting here for twenty minutes, un!"

Another man entered the vehicle and replied insouciantly, "Ojii-san was in a talkative mood again."

"Anyway, we're late," grunted the blonde, reaching behind his seat. Having gotten a hold of a black cloak, he dropped it atop his partner's lap. It was interesting in the fact that the garment had a design of red clouds. "I heard it's gonna be a long night."

"Just get going already, Deidara."

—

"Then we engaged in a really interesting conversation, about…" Sango trailed off experimentally, a doubtful eyebrow raised. "Hey, earth to Higurashi Kagome—you there? I thought you wanted a full report on how my date went."

Kagome stopped fiddling with her buckwheat noodles and slowly raised her head. "Oh…yeah, sorry. I was kinda thinking about something. Sorry."

"Did something happen?" Sango asked concernedly, picking up on her friend's melancholy.

Forcing a smile, the raven-haired woman shook her head. "No, my stomach just…hurts. The soba's not so appealing right now."

"First you're in thought, and then the problem's your stomach. _Right_. Well, I'm open for free counseling anytime, in case you get mentally lost as usual and aren't sure of what 'road in life' to take."

Catching on to the allusion of an inside joke they shared, Kagome smiled appreciatively. "Of course, Sango-chan."

—

In the darkness, a lone figure lied on her bed, staring out her open window. Stars blinked merrily in the midnight sky, illuminating the night. Kagome's eyes swept across her digital clock, and saw the time was 1:53 A.M. She sighed, her mind determined in not allowing her to sleep. It'd been nearly three hours since she had slipped under her bed's covers. And there was so much on her mind. First, her father. Kagome had never known of the hidden photo he had been holding onto all this time until now. She felt hopeful, because although he couldn't recall perfectly, he must have been able to draw forth some sort of nostalgic feeling from the picture. By looking back to when the family, and his mind, had been a whole. His daughter as well had experienced that notion head-on. Perhaps Higurashi Sabishii could somehow regain his memories and old self.

…though not to get ahead of herself, of course. That never did any good. She didn't want to be overly optimistic, for fear of facing heavy disappointment later.

And then there was the curious redheaded stranger with those _eyes_.

_If I recall right…he was at the bar several nights ago. He's from Akatsuki, I'm sure of it. _

A clear image of the man matching gazes with her that night entered her thoughts.

She raised the blanket to her nose, cheeks warming up for a reason unknown to her.

_Snap out of it, Kagome!_ The woman defiantly shook her head (she was doing that quite _often_ lately).

It was normal for people to visit hospitals, for whatever reasons they had. Just because she had seen this particular man at one didn't make him anything special. And it was simply by pure coincidence that they had engaged in—_heavy_, albeit transitory—eye contact. For the _second_ time in a _week_. Sure, it wasn't exactly casual…

_Bleh, whatever, he's just some no-good criminal! _

She mentally scolded herself for getting so flustered about a trifling matter. With a small, disgruntled sound ("_hmph_!") she cleared her head to try and force sleep to come.

* * *

**Chapter Four: The Blonde Artist, Nendo Deidara**

* * *

_The way he was back then—and probably still is now, I'm sure—you'd think his closest friend would also either be exactly like his stiff, austere self, or astonishingly different; the second option because, for some unexplainable (and clichè) reason, whenever a man has a single, irreplaceable companion: the two tend to be the same or opposite in overall key aspects. (Like in the movies, get it?) Turned out to be the latter. I had the 'pleasure' of meeting said friend first, and oh boy, was it a hectic start. It gives me a good laugh now that I think about it. At that time, I hadn't been able to recognize him as one of the Akatsuki members from the bar, and of course, he didn't know who I was either. All the events from that day are still crystal clear in my mind: my coy and adorable little friend, Hyuga Hinata, had persuaded me into taking pottery classes with her…_

"Thanks for inviting me, Hinata-chan, but again I'm no _Picasso_…so don't expect too much!" said Kagome in bright cheers while grinning playfully at the other woman walking alongside her. The raven-haired lady was attired appropriately for the cold: she wore an ebon pea coat fully buttoned and tight, formfitting jeans of a dark shade. An eye-catching acrylic red scarf was wrapped around her neck and black flats adorned her feet; her hair cascading down her back as usual. A tiny brown leather bag with a single long strap hung down her right shoulder, stopping near her thigh.

In response, Hyuga Hinata faced her and smiled shyly, saying encouragingly, "Please don't worry yourself, Kagome-chan. Pottery is somewhat difficult in the beginning, but it grows on you. You'll learn to love it, actually, since it's quite relaxing." Dark blue tresses waved as the woman turned to her side, picking a piece of lint off her beige double-breasted trench coat. Her lower limbs were covered by onyx leggings, leading down to feminine white shoes. Instead of a purse she carried a modest, expensive-looking chestnut-hued wallet bag; a treasured birthday gift from her younger sister Hanabi.

She gingerly pulled out her car keys and pressed the lock button, glancing back for a second to ensure that her automobile had done as commanded.

The women were walking leisurely, side by side, toward a rather massive building. It was a fine establishment indeed, and very well-known for the numerous talented Japanese artists that had originated from it and achieved vast success in the public eye. To be able to take classes at such a renowned institution was hardly cheap, but due to her family's seemingly endless wealth and her authoritative father's constant molding of her life the way he deemed appropriate, Hinata had managed to secure her position at the art center for quite a while; starting the second she had graduated from college. From it she had made a few new acquaintances, while creating and working on various methods and forms of art, but they were not authentic friends.

Her personality itself was a painfully tricky curse, if only because it was compatible with specific types of people. Opening up to others had always been an arduous task for her, meaning for her to form legitimately close bonds was tough as well. Patience was required when it came to dealing with her, and it was something she had found in abundance in her good friend, Higurashi Kagome.

Hinata regarded said companion with a surreptitious glimpse of her ivory eyes, catching sight of her peer.

They had met back in college in one of their literature courses, having been seated next to each other in a table of four due to their last names. The other two—one male and the other female—had merely minded their own businesses and conversed with Kagome now and then, but completely ignored the Hyuga, considering her bashful, timorous responses as signs that she would be more of a hassle than she was worth to get to know. Quite simply, they had written her off as a bore.

And she had not minded—it was not something unexperienced.

Surprisingly, Kagome had decided on a different route, and instead tried purposely bringing up conversations with her, persevering through the frequent, single-syllable responses and occasional stuttering (that occurred whenever she was caught off-guard, or _nervous_). She must have noticed that even the taciturn Hyuga girl felt lonely.

During 'free times' (which was what the professor gave them when he was busy catching up on some procrastinated work on his laptop) she would normally be the only one _not _occupied and chattering away with the other students, indulging in a light snooze on her desk, nor anything _else. _Instead she would be in her seat, gazing down at her twiddling thumbs, waiting patiently for the next lesson. Sometimes she would catch brown eyes, sneaking a quick look at her from their periphery vision.

Since then, she had gained an invaluable friend who she could depend on and confide in. Hinata would do the same for her, and listen with open ears and her full attention whenever the easygoing Kagome had something on her mind and needed help, or required advice. Kagome had deemed her extremely trustworthy and loyal, telling her once that she was lucky to have "made such a wonderful friend like Hinata who could be relied on," and that she was glad they met.

Rarely ever the one to receive a kind, praising compliment on her ridiculously hard-to-deal-with (that's what her father said often, and his words had drilled themselves into her conscience) personality, Hinata had blushed when she heard it.

In truth, she was probably even happier than the other woman.

After graduating they had kept tabs on each other, and through the occasional phone call now and then, arranged meetings to share lunch and 'catch up'; as well as various other things females did with their friends. She had visited Kagome's apartment several times in the past, and met Tajiya Sango through her. The brunette was also a benign and pleasant individual like her roommate, and they had become friends as well. In a way, those two joyful people might have had a hand in her gaining a bit more confidence since her earlier years.

She was still the quiet, demure introvert, but no longer was she as hard on herself, and that made all the difference. The days of lacking complete faith in herself and practically being unable to hold a conversation with _anyone_ were over; the hard times had passed as she grew and steadily developed the willpower of her mind. Sometimes she giggled softly to herself, remembering when she had been but a young girl—when _socializing_ had been an impossible feat for her.

With frank honesty, Hinata had coaxed Kagome over the phone to attend pottery classes with her, despite not knowing if the latter had any art interest or talents—simply because she had wanted to spend more time together. With all the different responsibilities that came in droves to new adults (such as job occupations or other similar assignments) time between two people could become extremely challenging to match up without prior planning.

And although her and Kagome—and sometimes Sango tagged along—put together days of when they should meet and did so, those fleeting, few hour afternoons that took place once every three weeks or so were…left more to be desired, at least for the Hyuga. She found her timid self unsatisfied.

So although she couldn't take Sango's place as her roommate, Hinata had settled for getting Kagome to sign up for an art class with her, in the hopes that it would be a little like the old times in that college literature class.

Of course, Kagome did not know a thing about all these complexities in the back of her ivory-eyed friend's mind; she had just been in a position where she couldn't say no to her longtime friend (since Hinata had _heavily _insisted) and, deciding she needed some 'elegant' and redeeming traits about herself, had said with a mouthful of potato chips, "Sure, why not." Who knew, perhaps her attending the institute would turn out to be like the romantic novels, where she would meet the love of her life: a gorgeous, tall, handsome, gifted man—alright, well _probably not_.

But dreaming and fantasizing was no crime. As long as it stayed inside her head, anyway.

Hinata fixed her hand on the steel bar and pulled the transparent door open, mentally reading the name of the establishment painted across it in a beautiful, cursive font-style. She waited for Kagome to enter first ("Thank you Hinata-chan," she said) with a welcoming smile before going through it herself. The interior was massive, and placed before the receptionist desk was a large golden fountain.

Even through the preliminary hallways there were various pieces of artwork, all brilliantly put together by past student-attendees of the organization. Prosperity radiated from every corner of the building as the two women walked to where their class would soon begin.

Kagome's eyes seemed to bulge out rather comically every instant they passed by another famous art piece that even she, despite not knowing much about the subject herself, recognized. By then she had started scratching her cheek in embarrassment.

"Hinata-chan," she started self-consciously, an apologetic expression on her face, "I don't think I can even _afford_ to come here. It seems like this place was built for people who are really, _really_ well off…"

She had already seen that reaction coming. The ivory-eyed woman smiled gently and daintily waved a small, dismissive hand.

"The expenses have already been taken care of, Kagome-chan," Hinata answered, her volume low. She missed the incredulous look on her friend's face as she continued, "They don't allow trial periods anymore, however…so I signed you up for the whole term. If you…well, if you don't like the class, it's perfectly fine not to attend. It is your choice." Though she hoped Kagome would _not_ dislike and drop the class, because if that happened she would be saddened.

Her comment about the trial periods was a lie, formulated to keep her friend in the class as long as possible. She was aware Kagome did not have money to spend on such a luxurious interest even if she wanted to, and the Hyuga also knew she would never ask to loan money from her, despite knowing of her family's wealthy position.

"B-but, Hinata-chan!" Kagome stammered as they continued their path along the shiny floors, and walls showcasing more achievements. Open palms before her, Kagome lowered a finger each time she guessed at how much a single term could possibly cost. "A place like this, it's probably…oh my _god_, I'll pay you back as soon as possible." A typical response from her. Instead of being angry with Hinata for having signed her up and feeling as though she had been forced into a position where she now owed debt, she insisted on reimbursing the other woman. Regardless, she probably wouldn't have even been able to pay it all off for a _long_ while.

Kagome stopped her now frantic mumbling when she felt a mollifying hand on her arm. The two had stopped walking, their class a short distance away. She turned her head to see Hinata, the woman's lips curved upward in an assuaging expression; a slim finger against her mouth, requesting silence.

"I don't mind paying a small price to spend time with you, Kagome-chan. Please, don't mind the money. The fee was fairly cheap since I have been a patron of this place for a lengthy amount of time now." Her words, calm and kind, were pacifying. Again she lied, though for the right reason (they were to _her_). There had been no discount, and the pay had been exorbitant, but like she had assured the woman, Hinata had not minded at all.

Lowering her hands Kagome released a defeated sigh—she understood.

Rubbing the back of her head, a self-conscious smile playing at her lips, she said, "Arigatou, Hinata-chan, I appreciate it. Really."

—

Eye twitching, Kagome scrutinized the completed 'work' in front of her, sitting innocently atop its position on the now motionless electric-powered potter's wheel. She looked at Hinata's more accomplished one beside hers. Her brown orbs switched back and forth, comparing the glaring differences.

The thing in front of her looked more like a shapeless blob than the bowl it was supposed to be.

Resisting the urge to laugh a bit, Hinata comforted her in an light tone, "It takes a little getting used to…you'll have to find out how to work your hands best."

Kagome sighed defeatedly. "I can tell…"

The two women sat next to each other on a single wooden bench with their coats, bags, and Kagome's scarf abandoned on the empty table near them—safe from potential stains and clay-covered fingers. Aside from them the room was full of giggling, laughing, conversing young ladies not unlike themselves, as well as a few men here and there. They all appeared affluent judging by the qualities of their clothing and the fancy accessories adorning the women's ears, necks and wrists.

The instructor was just slightly older than her students—a pretty, matured female with startling crimson eyes and black hair tied up into an intricate bun. In spite of her intimidating appearance, she was quite friendly and willing to help; and she preferred the students call her by her first name rather than last: "Kagura."

Hinata, in an attempt to cheer up her friend, suggested, "Kagome-chan, would you…like to practice painting? On a few old teacup models I made."

Kagome perked up, intrigued. "They teach you how to do that in here too?"

"No," Hinata answered with a small smile, "but Kagura-san brings in the tools, and if anyone asks for help she instructs them on how to do it."

"Oh," said Kagome. "But…I think she's too busy to help me right now." She looked over west to the other side of the spacious room where said woman was leaning over from the back of a blushing young man, teaching him on how to form the clay as he wished.

"I'll help you!" Hinata suddenly volunteered, not awaiting a response and leaving her seat to get the supplies and gather her past finished works from a cupboard near the entrance of the room.

"Well, okay."

Kagome turned back to her recent project, tilting her head at various angles, trying to see if it would look any better. She thoughtfully placed an index finger on her chin, having forgotten of the minor clay remnant on its tip; leaving a brown spot below her mouth. Lips pursed, she continued her scrutiny, until her thoughts were disturbed by many loud, feminine shrieks.

Wondering what was going on, she turned to the source of the noise. There was a mob of females at the door, swooning and overly excited over a man who had apparently just made his presence in the atmosphere known. She herself was the only one sitting down in her seat and not gathered in the human cluster. Even the males were in the crowd, their attention focused solely on the visitor. Kagome leaned backwards to catch a glimpse at what was making everyone so rowdy. _Did a celebrity just come in?_

It was a tall male, his body lean yet strong, and radiating confidence through its stance. He was wearing a spotless white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and the first few buttons undone; hands in the pockets of his black trousers. Lengthy blonde hair shined all the way down his back; a strip in the front veiling his left eye, only to be swayed now and then by his occasional movements. Half his golden hair was drawn at the back into a high ponytail.

_What's so special about him? _wondered Kagome. He wasn't a superstar, at least not one that she was able to identify.

Spectating some more through a gaping hole between the many bodies, Kagome espied the side-view of Hinata's head as the latter reached for something with one hand. On the top of her other palm she carried a variety of items stacked upon each other, trying to balance all the wobbling materials. Thinking she could use a little help, Kagome drew herself up from the bench and began her way towards Hinata, who was acting as if she didn't realize there was a huge commotion behind her.

Then, something _bad_ happened. Kagome had barely reached the sizable group of people when she saw what transpired next.

Hinata, still oblivious to the 'celebrity's' presence—as well as his fans—had spun on her feet, aiming to return to their bench. Unaware of the untimely foot in her path that she had not been able to see because of the leaning tower of art materials she held, she tripped; eliciting a shocked squeal on her way downward. The male blonde everyone was cooing over had spun around upon hearing an alarming noise behind him, his reflexes quick.

It all happened in slow motion to Kagome, like a scene in a movie where a person was about to get run over by a car. _Oh, god_…

Everyone was silent as two dainty cups fell a seemingly long distance before shattering, the glasses making a painful collision with the floor. The abandoned shards on the ground were joined not long after by nearly soundless plastic bowls, their insides giving clues of having just prior been holding a generous amount of slick paint.

Then there was sound, as a large gasp escaped the mouths of many women.

Eyes wide, Hinata looked up at the person who had broken her fall (thanks to his arms that she had been able to latch onto in the nick of time). There was a furious sneer on his handsome face as he glared down at her. She immediately let go of his arms and stood erect, before bowing low, head down and fingers woven together, ready to apologize profusely.

"I-I'm s-so sorry!" she stuttered. "I-I wasn't looki—"

"Do you know," the man interrupted, his baritone voice surprisingly composed, "the intrinsic value of this shirt?"

Teeth clamped together, Hinata slowly raised her head, just enough to see the man with his hands holding the fabric of his finely tailored shirt to her eyes, demanding of her to inspect the very noticeable stains on them. Pearl orbs grew big yet again, this time in recognition of all the pastel blotches of color splayed across the male's clothing: very friendly and endearing shades of purple, yellow, green, and _pink_.

"I-I'll p-purchase you a n-new one im-immediately, I apologize f-for my clum—"

Instead of listening, the man continued speaking, "It was made in France by a renowned clothing designer; the proof of that is on every single one of these"—he pointed at a white, round button, and upon closer inspection Hinata saw a very light marking of initials in cursive: _NK, "—_so, what are you going to do?"

Kagome was already starting to dislike this guy; he acted as though he were too good to converse with Hinata the way a normal human should.

"A-again, I'm so s-sorry! I will get the e-exact same shirt for you, I just need to know—"

"The tailor is now dead, has been for several years. This is the only shirt of its kind. So…_what are you going to do_—hmm?"

Hinata urged herself not to crack under the pressure, cornered by all the heat directed upon her as everyone stared, even the instructor who remained wordless. Her eyes glazed over with premature tears as whispers arose in the crowd, women pointing at her and men shaking their heads in pity.

Her voice was awfully hard to pick up on as yet again, she whispered, "I'm s—"

"Hinata-chan, don't apologize to this guy!"

The angry shout drew everyone's attention onto Kagome, who fearlessly marched over to her bowing friend, her steps unusually loud. Indifferent to the whispers reaching her ears ("Who's _that_?" "Does she not know anything?" "How stupid." "…what's that on her face?") she boldly motioned for her companion to stand straight on her feet, and turned a furious expression towards the man surveying her with cold, analyzing eyes. Unwilling to show that she was intimidated by his mean gaze, she pointed accusingly at him, looking at him square in the face.

Then, she gustily yelled, "Who do you think you are? She just made a mistake, and she _apologized_! That should be enough, shouldn't it? You don't have to push it even further and try to make her feel worse than she already does!"

Disbelief crossed the faces of many in the room.

The male was unperturbed, his reaction swift and smooth. "Really…then _you _take care of the problem for her, un."

Blinking, Kagome stared into the blonde's azure eyes. They were sparkling with amusement. The cocky bastard was actually trying to break her, as he had with Hinata.

Well, unfortunately for him, he wouldn't succeed. Not with her.

Lowering her hand, Kagome assertively replied, "Alright, I'll wash it for you."

"…wash it?" He sounded a tad taken aback.

"That's right," the woman corroborated, crossing her arms and smiling confidently, "I'll even use my own hands instead of a laundry machine—so it won't get ruined."

A deep, sarcastic noise came from the back of his throat. "Don't make me laugh. My maids could definitely get the job done better than you ever could."

Kagome's smile faltered and she bit the bottom of her lip, her temper beginning to simmer. _This guy is impossible!_

The man supplemented, "But, there _is _one way, un."

"One way?" Kagome parroted. Waiting in anticipation for the answer, the raven-haired woman was surprised when he lifted his hand to the bottom of her face and with a single thumb, wiped off the brownish smudge that had been there the whole time. Several of the females in the crowd nearly fainted, and a few others sported jealousy in their youthful eyes. The strange blonde examined the dark stain on his thumb and turned it around, showing it to her. Under normal circumstances she would have been embarrassed to find out everyone had seen her with the blotch smack dab on her complexion, but for today she could afford to set aside her embarrassment. She continued to glare testily at the man, arms still folded. "Well? What is it? This 'one way.'"

Hands pocketed again, a complacent smirk formed on his face as the male put his foot forward. "Your mouth, my shoe. Do it, and everything that happened today will be erased from my mind." His eyes lingered momentarily on the blue-haired woman next to the one he was currently 'discussing business' with. She was obviously frightened, her frown unable to venture any deeper; and she was slightly trembling. "Or, if that girl wants to fully repent she can do it herself, un."

Just the fact that he proposed such a thing was horrid. But it made Kagome beyond angry because of how he said it so straightforwardly, the twisted joy in his voice obvious. She placed a heavy hand on Hinata's shoulder, urging her back: a message telling her not to do it—because _she_ was going to.

"K-Kagome-chan…" Hinata whispered, the penitence in her voice reaching the other woman.

Kagome unconsciously ran a tongue over her lips. "Everything's going to be okay, don't worry," she soothed. Her gaze on the blonde was firm, and with a gulp she peered down at his shiny black leather shoes. A good whole minute passed in that instant.

The man impatiently rolled his eyes. "You either do it or you don't. Hurry up, don't keep me waiting all day."

Then, as the incessant whispering began back up, the pottery instructor Kagura just watching in amazement, Kagome ever so slowly started to descend upon the man, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She breathed evenly through nose, trying to compose herself and suppress the lambent flames of indignance within her. She told herself that she wasn't going to let the gentle, fragile Hinata humiliate herself in a way like this, especially when the reason for the entire problem ensuing in the first place wasn't worth it at all.

Everyone watched: Hinata with tears already rolling regretfully down her eyes; the blonde with a smug expression.

Midway, still on her feet, with the view of broken glass shards, plastic bowls, and a pair of shiny black shoes, Kagome suddenly paused. An abrupt determination sparked within her, and the gears inside her brain started spinning rapidly, providing her with possible escape routes. Her chocolate orbs hardened with the nerve she knew she had resting inside her. She curled her hands into balls of tight fists, a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. I'm really gonna do it, she thought.

Then, it happened, and no one ever saw it coming.

Vocalizing her inner reactions and feelings to the _bullshit_ she had just put up with, and unable to take any more, Kagome uttered a battle cry, her voice coming off as deep as possible for a female and alarming the people in the room. Then, before anyone could digest what was going on, she shot up from her earlier submissive position, and right arm cocked all the way back, she resolutely swung forward, cheap-shotting the arrogant blonde bastard directly in the left eye with her fist and as much strength as she could muster.

A random spectator in the crowd breathed, "Holy _shit._"

"OW—WHAT THE FUCK?" bellowed the blonde, cracking open his untouched right eye. He saw the female who had struck him rush to a table and gather her belongings, as well as someone else's, before coming back to grab hold of the frozen, wide-eyed blue-haired woman's pale hand; the latter's mouth open as she gazed at him, the trails of her tears glistening under the lights.

"Let's go, Hinata," Kagome said, her voice firm. A leather brown purse hung off her shoulder, and two coats were slung over her left forearm, a red scarf on top of them; the unity between the two women's hands yet to be broken. She led the wordless Hyuga to the door, but before exiting, looked back upon the the man clasping onto his painfully throbbing eye (where the hell did a _woman _get such monstrous power from?), a livid scowl on his face. Pleased with herself, she awarded him with a psuedo-sweet smile, its false friendliness easy to discern, stuck out her tongue for a fleeting two seconds before leaving with Hinata in tow.

Finally coming to their senses, the crowd and Kagura rushed in to bombard the blonde with questions, asking if he was okay and if he needed anything.

—

Kagome sat comfortably in the iron garden chair, sipping vehemently on the straw leading into her tall plastic cup of iced-strawberry-lemon tea. Her expression seemed absolutely furious to the cautiously watching Hinata seated across from her. They were currently at a table outside a caf_é_ they had visited several times in the past; usually to relax and chat while drinking coffee or tea—sometimes with a slice of cake. Hinata watched in amazement as the liquid in Kagome's cup dissipated rapidly, a whole centimeter gone by every fifteen seconds. Before she knew it, the only thing remaining was ice.

Releasing a satisfied and unladylike grunt (Hinata's father usually did the same after downing a large amount of beer in a short time) from her throat, Kagome slammed her plastic chalice down on the metal table, causing it to tremble, and startling her friend.

"I still can't believe the nerve of that guy," she groused, grimacing. "Why was everyone going so crazy over him, anyway?"

"His name is Nendo Deidara," Hinata told her softly, staring down at her twiddling fingers. "He is a prominent figure at the institute…because he's so talented when it comes to art pieces, especially those involving clay."

A short, defiant "_Hn_!" came from Kagome. "So he is…"

"And," Hinata continued, "his deceased grandfather was one of the two leading main founders."

Kagome's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "_W-what_?" she questioned volubly, her palms flat on the table's surface.

The blue-haired woman gave her a nod as if to say _It's true_.

To that she responded with concern. "Oh, shoot, what have I _done…_! Hinata-chan"—her dark brown orbs were apologetic towards the other woman, "—I'm really, _really_ sorry…honestly I am. _Gah,_ now I feel so stupid! I should've watched myself back there!"

Not understanding why she was the one receiving a request for forgiveness, the pale female replied, "You shouldn't be sorry to me, Kagome-chan, you saved me."

"No, but"—guiltily the Higurashi slanted her gaze downward to the table's intricate designs, "—if he's the grandson to one of the founders, he probably has a lot of power and authority, right? And what if…what if he…kicks you out? It doesn't matter if that happens to me since I barely started there, and the money you paid for my entrance—I can definitely get it back to you no matter what, but…" She trailed off, unable to say anymore, feeling extremely foolish and blameworthy. Kagome looked up to see Hinata smiling sweetly at her.

"Kagome-chan, it's nothing to worry over," the woman reassured her gently for more than the second time that day. "I'm…I'm glad you stuck up for me when you did. It made me really…happy." She finished with a humble blush.

Unconvinced, Kagome smiled a nervous, lopsided smile.

—

Akasuna Sasori slid the bow back and forth, the ancillary tool causing the violin, situated under his chin and clutched at the head by his left arm, to produce euphonious sounds, altogether creating a sad and elegant song that was soothing to his gifted ears. His eyes were glued to the open packet in front of him, supported by the black stand, the note sheets guiding him. It would not be long before he would memorize the new song he had just picked up by heart. He was _only _a musical genius, after all.

The setting sun blessed him with its glorious rays through a large unobstructed window, blanketing him in warm light. He wore a long-sleeved blouse, the article possessing a very fair hue of pastel blue. Over it was a men's dress vest, expertly sewn together with black silk, and his legs were fully covered by dark trousers. The violin in the red-headed man's grip completed the entire look, giving his image a luxurious, wealthy feel.

Having just finished another repeat of the song, Sasori slightly lowered the musical instrument and perused the open note sheets, thoughtful. The melody was wonderful, and the piece itself a classic masterpiece, yet he couldn't help but feel that it was incomplete…

"Something is missing."

He was unable to ponder over his current dilemma much longer, however, for the door to his expansive bedroom swung open, and a less than happy blonde entered, his boisterous steps absolutely graceless. Sasori's carmine orbs tailed the man, himself rather annoyed of how he had been disturbed in the middle of a very vital contemplation. Though, it was also quite of the norm to have the familiar character barging in his room uninvited, and it was hardly a rare scenario—at _all_.

The blonde man chose to plop down on Sasori's black leather couch, spreading his arms out to get comfortable, one resting on the armrest next to it, while the other was across the very top of the furniture.

Sasori silently turned back to his compilation of notes sheets, choosing to ignore the intruder. Though he would not be allowed to continue doing so, apparently, because his 'guest' obnoxiously cleared his throat, emitting a loud "_Hm_!" Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he decided to grant the slightly younger man a listening ear.

"It's quite uncommon to see you so riled up," Sasori nonchalantly commented, his gaze wandering lazily to the blonde.

His eyes widened by the tiniest fraction when he saw Deidara lift up the golden locks covering his left eye, briefly showing the source of his anger, before letting the hair fall back in place. Wondering what could have warranted his unruly friend the small yet painful-looking bruise, Sasori decided to sate his curiosity. It couldn't possibly have been a token from a member of a rival yakuza, because there would surely have been more than just one minor injury if that were the case.

With the tiniest hint of interest he inquired, "And what would be the story behind _that_?"

"This bitch from the institution," Deidara sourly snapped. "I think she's new, I've never seen her before until today."

Sasori again had to restrain himself from expressing his inner reaction, though this time it was laughter. "A _woman_ gave you such a wound?" he queried, not bothering to conceal his unsympathetic amusement.

"She's a _crazy _bitch, danna!" he emphasized. "You wouldn't understand unless you met her yourself…she hits like a man!"

"Well, I have no intention of acquainting myself with any…masculine females." Against his own wishes, his mind weaved together the image of an overly macho woman: her enormous muscles rippling, and her hair cut in a butch style. It _would _take someone of such caliber to put a dent on the likes of Deidara. He then coolly voiced his suggestion, "Do you plan on letting her be? It would be far too easy on your part to nullify her membership for displaying such insolence." That would have been _his _course of action.

Deidara brought his thumb under his nose, the smudge he had removed from the woman's chin still there. Azure eyes pensive, the blonde stayed hushed.

Sasori, taking the quietude as a sign that he could continue his violin playing, did just that.

It was not until the golden rays of the dying sun slithered farther across Sasori's room, reaching out to touch Deidara, that the latter finally came to a conclusion.

"Sasori-no-danna, I got it," he announced, sounding extremely pleased with himself.

The redhead once again ceased his practicing, granting Deidara the attention he sought.

"I'm gonna make her _miserable_…yeah. Instead of doing her a favor and expelling her, I'll crush her pride completely and have her leave by choice. She'll feel like shit, un!"

Mildly desiring to express his opinion, of how the idea was utterly puerile and unnecessary—as well as a hassle that could easily be avoided—Sasori sighed inaudibly under his breath. _How old are you again, Deidara?_ was what he wanted to ask, but knowing a petty argument would ensue in consequence (and he being in no mood for one), decided against it. He had reasonable control over himself unlike a certain Nendo, which was why _he_ wasn't the one sporting a degrading contusion on his visage.

"Do as you wish," the redhead said—which, coming from him, could be interpreted as a form of approval.

Sasori continued his musical session, paying no further heed to the scheming blonde on his couch, who by now had attained a mischievous and malicious glint in his azure eyes.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Genius Musician, Akasuna no Sasori**

* * *

_After I met Nendo Deidara, things were pretty hectic for a while; Very, to be accurate. I'm not exaggerating when I say it really was out of control. We were at each other's throats and totally determined to topple the other. When I think back, it's just plain silly, how two adults were engaging in meaningless, childlike warfare. Though, I guess everyone's got some childishness deep inside, ne? Other than that, you know what else was odd? The way I kept spontaneously—or was it?—running into that man. Yes, him. You'd think it was the work of fate or something higher in the grand scheme of things. You're probably wondering, 'Do such phenomena truly exist?' Perhaps, who honestly knows? Me, well, I believe that we may all have been predestined for the journeys and greatnesses lying up ahead in our lives._

"I can _not_ believe this," huffed Kagome, trying to maintain her composure as she power-walked determinedly through the accursedly enormous building. It seemed to have no end to it, with its countless stairs and hallways, all which led her to a painfully novel path she'd never before seen. She mentally slapped herself for having rejected Hinata's earlier offer that morning to pick her up at her apartment and drive to the institute together. _I really should have just said yes._

She hadn't wanted to trouble the other woman with the hassle of driving to her home, when she herself was positive she knew the proper directions to the fancy establishment. In truth, Kagome did—the problem lied underneath, as in, ironically, she didn't know how to navigate from _within _the damn place. In a nutshell, she was undoubtedly lost. The weekly schedule for Kagura's pottery class was every Monday and Thursday, respectably, unless it was to change for some reason in the future.

Three days had flown by since the incident of her meeting the absolutely _despicable _Nendo Deidara. Even now she hoped to have left a satisfying token (so little she knew) on his pretty face.

To her and Hinata's surprise, neither of them had received a call concerning their immediate removal from the art center, which they had been anticipating with dread. It was strange that the pompous blonde bastard hadn't done anything of the like to vindicate himself, after having experienced an immensely humiliating defeat at her hands (well, only one), but she wasn't going to complain either. Perhaps she had knocked some sense into his brain through his eyeball (while recalling the pleasant memory, Kagome's lips tilted into a triumphant smirk).

Yes, there had indeed been some hidden benefits Kagome gained throughout her life from having the quarrelsome Higurashi Souta as a brother. As a kid he had ceaselessly picked fights with her; physical ones, which had forced her to learn how to put the nettlesome brat in his place: _Beneath _her, that is.

Regardless, it was spectacular news not to have received any news at all, so Kagome and Hinata had decided to continue attending the institution together. Now, all of that was a wonderful relief, but it did not alter the fact that she was still very, _very _lost.

She went past a familiar painting centered neatly in the middle of a golden frame before a flash of recognition struck her, and the raven-haired woman smiled, mentally alleviated upon spotting the artwork which would serve today to point her in the right direction. Kagome could vaguely recall it from the first time Hinata had guided her through the numerous, labyrinthe paths. All she had to do was turn at the next corner, take the flight of stairs that would be present, and _voilà_: Mission Accomplished!

_Oh brother…_

Unfortunately, life was unkind, and in a turn of events Kagome ended up at a completely different place than she had expected. With a tiresome sigh she massaged her aching temple, cursing whoever it was that had been filthy rich enough to build a ridiculously massive building such as this.

That was Nendo Deidara's grandfather, and someone else—yeah. She gave herself a light knock on the head, forcing out the thoughts of the blue-eyed devil in disguise.

Then, with the spirit of someone who was outdone, she let loose another breath and leaned her back against the maroon-painted wall, blowing her cheeks up like a certain species of fish. She blew a bit of air upward, and it shifted her bangs by a small margin.

It was at that moment when a nonexistent light bulb appeared at the top of her head, rapidly blinking on-and-off.

_That's right, why didn't I think of it in the first place? The receptionist desk! _

Now, if only she could find that, too…

Kagome deflated and slumped against the wall. She sighed lowly.

In retrospect, from the moment she came through the entrance doors she shouldn't have been so overconfident. She _should _have gotten directions from the receptionist just to be one-hundred percent sure. Kagome aimed to clear her mind for the first time in that dreadful duration of twenty minutes she had wasted searching, storing away all her mini panic attacks and trying instead come up with an intelligible solution.

It was then, in that instant of inner silence, that a sound of some sort reached her ears.

She opened her eyes which had been closed for a short period, and blinked confusedly. Then, she parted from the wall and stood erect, searching for the source of the noise. It was muffled, and barely discernible, but hear it she did. There had to have been a person _making _the noise, and that meant she could…ask that person for guidance! _Better than wandering around any longer—my feet are starting to cramp._

Following the dwindled hum, she ended up traveling even further down the quiet path, noticing that the shiny trophies and art pieces began to slowly diminish in number as she progressed. For a second, she was vaguely reminded of a certain western movie. _What was it again_…?

Ah, right: "Alice in Wonderland."

What laid in wait for her at the end: shady, mystifying cats; cookies and a drink to make her ginormous or tiny; maybe even a mutant caterpillar offering her a smoke from his pipe?

Eventually she stood before large, ominous black doors, and hesitated for a bit. A weird, tingling feeling pricked at the walls of her stomach and goosebumps surfaced on her arms.

But she dismissed the warning and placed a hand on one of the pushable silver bars. _Here I go._

The door creaked lightly.

Once she stepped out onto the other side, Kagome's eyes widened in astonishment; a very pleasant, relaxing view greeting her. "Wow," she said under her breath.

It was an outdoor garden, flourishing with trees and various exotic plants, a concrete pavement leading deeper into it. This prosperous organization really seemed to have it all when it came to 'art', no matter what form it was in. Kagome boldly walked ahead on the pre-made road, her ears signifying to her that the source of the sound (she could now discern that it was musical) would be at its end. On the way she took a giant whiff, appreciating the soothing fragrances that entered her nostrils. _This isn't too bad_. Her pained feet were forgotten and her heart rate descended back down to a steady tempo.

Soon she reached what she had blindly been searching for, and upon sight of it she hid behind a large tree. Its thick willowy branches, dressed entirely in long green leaves, aided her effort in staying concealed. There was a respectably sized pond—filled with koi fish presumably—bordered by large rocks that were halfway-submerged in it, all of them having the shared characteristic of flat tops. Sitting on one of the big boulders was a redheaded and finely attired man, strumming his acoustic guitar with preciseness and flawlessly performing a beautiful song that was assuaging in her ears. He was facing down, most likely closing his eyes as he lost himself in his music.

_Who is that? _wondered Kagome, her palms resting on the tree's bark. She smiled and leaned in slightly, the well-strung notes entering her ears. _He's really good_.

Then, as impolite as it were without meaning to be, the enormous clock tower residing in the near vicinity of the institute rang its massive bells, sharply waking her out of her reverie.

_What—already? Shoot! _She panicked on the spot, realizing now she was _completely_ late for her class. And she still was in a tight spot, not knowing where it was located. It would be highly embarrassing if she had to give Hinata the excuse that she couldn't make it just because she had been unable to find her way. As well as Kagura and her fellow peers, they would probably gain a very negative impression (if they hadn't already) of her: she who ditched on the second day, and before that deliberately punched the grandson of one of the founders. Joy.

Well, it was of no use being pessimistic. That wouldn't solve anything.

Kagome made the move to step back, ready to return to the building and continue her little pilgrimage. She decided not to bother the man and walk in during his solo, seeing as how he appeared to be concentrating deeply.

Apparently that was not for her to decide.

If there was indeed a higher God out there, he really had it in for her today. Somehow she happened to step on an unseen twig that was very thick in size, and it cried a ridiculously loud _snap_. Due to the garden being nearly empty of all but two humans, and perfectly serene aside from the mellow music, the sound reverberated ten times louder that what it should have; at least to Kagome it did. Almost immediately the man's head shot up toward the source of the noise, his guitar now silenced, and he directed his attention to Kagome. His eyes were narrowed.

_Really—_he thought peevishly—was it that Deidara again, who had an inept knack for constantly appearing before him in the most unwelcome of times?

But it was not, and instead of an obnoxious egotistical blonde male, Akasuna Sasori's gaze met the one of a female. She had obviously served as a secret audience from behind her tree. The woman looked disturbingly familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it just yet. She was tense, like a rabbit that had just been caught snooping around in lion's territory; now caught in the big cat's vision. She wore a white sweater that had thin horizontal blue lines going across; it hung off her left shoulder, revealing a modest amount of skin. Her bottom half was clad in fitting blue jeans that stayed true to her leg's curves all the way down until it ended at her ankles, where the remaining fabric crinkled together.

The visibly bewildered woman exclaimed, "Hey! I-it's you…!" while pointing a rude finger at him, as if she had just seen him commit a crime; which was laughable.

_She_ was the one who had been spying on _him_.

It was then, while studying her somewhat recognizable face, hair, and overall appearance, that he figured it out. He said nothing to acknowledge her identity, but he knew well who she was. It was that exact same waitress from the pub Akatsuki visited, normally for their rare and infrequent meetings. He had _also_ seen this particular woman at the hospital, clinging onto a confused-looking male patient. Back then he had been unsure if it was her, but now that she stood directly before him, he knew it had been. His superlative memory and ability to recall people's faces never failed him and he rather took pride in that; at times they were quite useful.

Though aside from the past two occurrences, he had never _ever_ seen her before in any of the hallways or classes of the art establishment. _This is indeed a peculiar coincidence_.

However, if he had to be honest, instead of catering to his curiosity, he would much rather prefer that she simply leave him be and go on her merry way. He was that much more interested in being able to go back to his peace and solitude than wasting his precious time trying to figure out who this woman was.

As if on cue, Sasori recalled something Deidara had said to him few days prior. It was something along the lines of…_I think she's new…I've never seen her before until today_.

Could this be the so-called 'crazy bitch' who had struck Deidara? Sasori found it humorous to even imagine such a small and petite female as being able to cause formidable damage to a manly brute like his partner.

Pushing his entertaining thoughts aside and getting back on track—the young man's gaze grew critical. Regardless, it was indeed a strange _fluke_ how often he had seen this female in so little amount of time. Especially now in his private garden, which was clearly _restricted_, and she would have known if she'd bothered to read the sign located next to the door leading to said area. From this he could surmise that this woman was hardly observational to her surroundings.

Kagome herself was mildly confused and thinking partially similar thoughts. From the moment he had lifted his head, she had known who he was; and she was confused. He was an _Akatsuki_ member, yet he was also an attendee at this prestigious institute? It was a strange idea to imbibe. For what reason would a criminal want to gain artistic skills? So he could make pretty little art pieces? The only explanation—which was still not enough to sate her—she could provide herself with was that, well, they were people _too_ after all.

…she supposed they must have had their own hobbies and interests outside of their yakuza activity.

Apparently five minutes had already passed, because the bell noisily rang again, notifying all who could hear it of the lapse of time. This meant not only was she still late, but now even _later_. She hoped Hinata wouldn't be worried and assume something had happened to her, or think that she had abruptly decided not to show up and to drop the class.

As for this unusual predicament, someone had to wrap it up…

"Um, well…I'm—err…_please_, just go back to what you were doing," Kagome said nervously with a crooked smile, raising her hands before her in her own defense (he probably knew by now that she had secretly been observing him—he probably thought she was a stalker!). She then turned on her heel and sped away without a glance behind her, fleeing from the unnerving situation.

Sasori raised a thin, delicate brow, unsure of what just happened or how he should take it, but nonetheless content to be left alone again.

Then, to his slight interest, the woman came running back half a minute later, her hurried steps lacking all grace.

"By, some chance"—she stopped momentarily to draw in a great breath, obviously in need of it as she bent down, clutching her knees for support, "—do you, know, where Kagura-san's, pottery class, is?" She had to pause more times than necessary due to her current imbalance of oxygen.

In his normally stoic, uninterested tone, Sasori answered her, "Go straight once you exit this place and turn left, then head up the flight of stairs. From there turn right, and proceed until you are at the second door."

Quickly memorizing the somewhat complex set of directions Kagome uttered a rushed "Thank you!" and after a small bow, jogged back to where she came from. She ran a tad faster than she originally intended, and her cheeks were suddenly feeling hot; they were dusted pink. It would have been even more embarrassing if the man saw her blushing, as he had probably already deemed her as strange. Which was entirely fine as well, considering how she thought of him the same exact way.

There was an excited pounding in her chest, and Kagome knew that it hadn't been caused by her vigorous and impromptu afternoon exercise.

—

"And you place your hands like this, in order to—"

The door was abruptly pushed open, and through it arrived the fashionably late Higurashi Kagome, panting slightly for the breath she now rightfully deserved, having reached her destination. _Finally_. She bowed to everyone in the room and apologized sincerely for her tardiness ("Sorry, I was lost, please excuse me!"), as well as for interrupting them during a demonstration. Kagura simply smiled at her and told her she'd be fine, before instructing her to sit down and try to catch up on whatever information had already been disseminated.

Kagome made her way to her seat, a relieved Hinata waving daintily at her in silent greeting; to which she complied by returning the gesture. However, as bizarre as it were, she passed by several tables of women, each group whispering fiercely—and if she wasn't hallucinating or being overly paranoid, pointing accusatory fingers at her when they thought she couldn't see, though she did in her peripheral vision. She paid no mind, and after crossing the short distance, sat down next to her Hyuga friend.

Twenty minutes had passed by the time Kagura finished exhibiting her examples. The woman directed for everyone to grab hold of today's necessary materials, which were in the rear of the room, and make their projects by mimicking her actions. She encouraged them to discover their own unique styles while doing so. There was a raucous noise of people rising from their seats and shuffling in unison toward a single direction.

"I'll get the stuff this time since you got up on Monday," Kagome told Hinata with a smile. After receiving a short reply of thanks, she then stood up to follow the crowd and make her way to the back. There were several people before her and others, standing idly before various items and appearing thoughtful. Surveying the materials herself, the young woman wondered, _Hmm…should we go with that one today, or the other one? _She gingerly bit down on her lower lip. _Maybe—_

It was then that she felt someone roughly shove her from the back. She fell unceremoniously to the white, black-spotted floor, eliciting a squeak of surprise. Luckily her fall had been broken by her open palms and knees, the latter stinging from sudden impact. Having no idea as to what just happened and where the purposeful strength had come from, she turned her head. Behind her stood a man, feigning a startled expression and going on to give her a half-hearted bow. He airily apologized, and Kagome got up to dust off her kneecaps, saying it was all right and just to be careful next time.

"Yeah, accidents happen, ya know?" he defended himself without a trace of modesty, to which she chose not to reply. After he left with his supplies, she saw him go back to his group of friends and laugh in a mocking manner, one of them fixating his mirthful eyes on her form. The muscles in her jaws tense, Kagome restrained herself from accosting them and causing any more ruckus than she already had on Monday. _Rich guys, huh? _

"Don't worry about them, they're just dumb oafs," said a placating female voice.

Kagome turned to it and found herself face-to-face with another woman. She had a thin disposition but subtle muscles that praised her of her athletic abilities that were sure to exist, and covering her torso was a pink top while as her legs were snug in slightly loose, albeit well fitting, blue pants. On her head were two round balls of brown hair, her face completely free from any stray locks and confidently out in the open.

"Thanks," Kagome replied with a strained smile.

The brunette, having found a layer of dust on the white portion of her clothing, kindly brushed it off for her with her own hand. "A lot of the people here really love sucking up to Nendo-san just because of his skills and wealth," she said with disdain. "Goes to show you that a good portion of wealthy women and men tend to be way in over their heads sometimes. Well, _most_ of the time, actually." She stuck out her tongue, the gesture coming off as somewhat cute in Kagome's opinion, who in response let loose an approachable laugh of agreement.

"I'm Higurashi Kagome," she said, offering her hand.

The other lady took it up with a strong handshake (Kagome could already tell she possessed a powerful personality) and energetically replied, "Buki Tenten—pleased to make your acquaintance!" Almost immediately after, the woman whose name was Tenten leaned in, as if to make it so no one else could hear what she were about to say. She whispered, "Higurashi-san, I really respect you for having stood up to Nendo-san to defend Hyuga-san. It'd be nice to have more people like you around here."

Somewhat bashfully, Kagome responded, "Well, gee, thanks."

They chatted for a few more brief minutes, until the line cleared and they were able to retrieve their tools with ease and no further obstructions. The brunette bid her goodbye and returned to the table she sat at, where she positioned herself between a pink-haired woman with green eyes and a redheaded female with black-framed glasses. It appeared the latter was currently glowering in her direction, sending a bad vibe along with her (likely) nonverbal threat.

Deciding to leave the fire unfed, the Higurashi condoned the spiteful expression and overlooked it, not unlike how she had done for the rude male who'd pushed her.

Soon she was back at her table, seated next to Hinata, absentmindedly looking over their materials. She had to wonder, what was it with the people in this room being so hostile in regards to her presence? Was it really because of her interaction with Nendo Deidara that they had all bared witness to?

…if so, he had some loyal fans then.

It must have been obvious that Kagome was absorbed in thought, because as they both melded clay between their fingers, Hinata asked her if something was wrong. Although something _was _wrong, and she was indisputably piqued, she claimed to be perfectly fine.

It was unnecessary to trouble Hinata about such petty problems. She was sensitive and would blame herself for the distressing situation, since she would conclude that it was her fault, for having suggested they take pottery classes together—and for also having been the one to ruin Nendo Deidara's shirt because of her clumsiness, which started the conflict in the first place. Kagome did not believe in those things by any means, but she knew her demure friend would, and thus, did not speak a single word of negativity to her about it.

—

"Why, hello there Nendo-san," greeted a middle-aged woman, having raised her head upon hearing the sound of someone entering through her door. She straightaway recognized the proud stance, blonde hair semi-styled in a high ponytail, and determined azure eyes. "Is there something I may help you with?" It was not often that the grandson of the late Ōnoki (a name highly revered within the walls of the art institute) came to grace the records office with his presence.

"There is," Deidara answered curtly, scanning the rest of the room to make sure it was only the two of them in it, alone. He was satisfied, having found no one else in the proximity. "I need for you to give me a background check and fish up some information on a person who recently started coming here."

If anyone else other than him had come in demanding such a thing, they probably would have been chased out and reported for suspicious activity and motives.

Yet, this was the grandson of one of the founders, and if there was one more incredible thing he possessed other than superb visual skills and dexterous hands, it was indirect and unlimited power, as well as authority. Wasting no time, he gave the willing employee the name of his target: "Kagome." He had easily remembered it without any inconveniences from the time that blue-haired girl pleadingly whispered it ("_K-Kagome-chan…_"). He had no clue what her last name was, but he had luck on his side, as her first proved to be more than enough on its own. (She was the only one who had it.)

_And bingo_. Her photo had shot up instantly on the computer screen, and Deidara, who now stood beside the office lady seated in her swivel chair, nodded once. Underneath the digital picture was the full name "Higurashi Kagome" and other miscellaneous information such as her birthday, height, weight (she was a lot _heavier_ than she looked…), family background and the like. If he had to be honest, the woman wasn't such an eyesore when she was at least smiling genuinely. To his displeasure, his mind formed the image of her sticking her tongue out at him, just as she had recently for the sole purpose of further ridiculing him.

_I'm probably not much different from a stalker right now_, he noted with disdain. Forcing down the unpleasant feeling, he assured himself that there was no other choice. This woman, this Higurashi Kagome, had chosen to directly show him up in front of many other people—all of them whom attended the institution_. _In her situation she should have instead bowed respectfully to him and clamped her mouth shut, while her friend paid the necessary price for having ruined his priceless shirt.

But no.

This Higurashi Kagome had proven to him that there actually _was _one more thing that could piss the shit out of _him_, the great Nendo Deidara, other than appalling artwork by talentless buffoons (who claimed to know what true art was—_ha!_), the dreaded artist's block, and of course, not to be forgotten…that wretched, incessantly animated idiot named _Tobi_. The migraine-inducing fool who insisted on pestering him in any and every way upon any open opportunity whenever Akatsuki held one of its gatherings. Even now he could hear him repeatedly calling his name…_senpai, senpai, Deidara-senpai! I baked you some cookies before the meeting, senpai!_

Goosebumps suffused on Deidara's skin, and he unconsciously ran his hands over his arms, the corner of his lips twitching.

"Alright, Nendo-san, see this here," spoke the woman suddenly, shameless about what she was doing as she motioned to the screen. All thoughts of Tobi dismissed, Deidara complied and watched as an amazingly detailed, digital worldwide map unraveled before him. "This is where her address leads to: her home." What was a view of the entire planet and its contents seconds ago became a zoomed-in picture of an apartment complex. Centered right in the middle, was the door that was supposed to lead inside to _her_ home. The place was anything but shabby, but extremely small and nondescript for someone who attended the institution. (Even he admitted that the prices charged for just registering were rather exorbitant.)

Deidara contemptuously remarked, "Instead of spending her money here, she should focus on moving into a half-decent house, un."

"Actually," the officer worker corrected, turning in her seat to look at him, "when I received the payment for her membership, Hyuga Hinata was the one who brought it in. When I asked her why she was paying for someone else's membership, she seemed embarrassed and said she wanted to 'become even closer friends' than they already were. I'm assuming _that's_ how Higurashi got in."

_Who the hell is 'Hyuga Hinata'?_ On the computer, a picture was pulled up of said woman, and Deidara's brows rose in instant recognition of the pale complexion, ivory orbs and blue hair he would be able to spot anywhere. Not to mention, that absurdly timid expression on her face. He flippantly waved a hand, gesticulating for the office woman to dismiss the photos and her findings. The wheels in his head were already turning as he mentally compiled what he had learned so far of Higurashi Kagome. "So, she's of the middle class," he mumbled to himself, looking pensive with his chin in his hand. Perking up, he faced the middle-aged female beside him. "What about her car? Can you find out what kind she drives?"

Did she even have one?

At that, the lady eyed him warily for but a moment, thinking, _What's up with this kid…?_ But she obediently did as asked and searched through the saved records, trying to discover whether the woman in question had registered for the convenient private parking lots set aside for attendees of the institute.

"Yes, she does. Here's the model name, information, and license plate number…"

Deidara smirked; he was already be victorious. At this point he had won the 'war', no problem. This frustrating woman was not even an _equal_ compared to him nor any of the other _properly _admitted attendees of the glorious art establishment. Even from the beginning it had been built with the intent to keep out the mundane, middle and lower-class people, and develop the skills of those on a far different and higher level. _Her _kind was not to be permitted.

He had his proof, and she had no chance in hell.

Speaking of which, he realized as he glanced at the ticking clock that he should head back to the private floor that had been specifically designed for him and three others. It was safe to assume that he should soon be expecting a visit from the gutsy woman, begging for his forgiveness. He couldn't help but feel somewhat elated, knowing he would be on top again; as he always were.

No matter what the situation, and whoever he was against.

—

Kagome yawned, sluggish and tired; presumably because she had been up all night the evening before listening to Sango nag and vent about the problems she and her new boyfriend were going through. Apparently the "unique guy" was not only just that, but also a total "asshole" (according to his unhappy girlfriend, since Kagome herself had yet to meet the man and make her judgement). They were about one month into their not-so-successful relationship but already feuding on a daily basis. According to the girlfriend, it was mostly the guy who instigated all the quarrels, and so far, he had stood her up a grand total of five times already. There wasn't much Kagome could do for her best friend other than sit down and lend an ear for a few hours…upon hours, and hours…

"Did you not sleep well?" inquired Hinata gently.

The raven-haired woman sighed in response. "I couldn't at all last night until about five in the morning. Sango wanted to talk to me about something that's been kind of an issue for her nowadays. Plus"— she rubbed her temple, feeling an incoming headache, "—I had to wake up super early today to complete my registration at the main office here." Soon after, she stretched her arms far above her head, emitting a groan before continuing, "Can't wait to just go home and—"

"_HEY_!" a deep voice boomed, drawing the attention of the two startled women who simultaneously turned.

Before she even knew what was going on, Kagome was splashed with a medium-sized bucket of blue liquid, the substance landing all over her top clothing, and afterward steadily dripping down. Having closed her eyes last second when she saw something being hurled at her, she now opened them, blinking owlishly. She peered down to where she felt a disturbing moistness, and saw that now one of her favorite sweaters was totally mucked and ruined. Then her gaze traveled up to see who it was that had committed the deed against her. Hinata was silent and still, watching the scene unfold with stunned eyes and her hands over her mouth.

"Baka!" shouted Tenten as she roughly punched what seemed a teen male, much younger than all three of them, in the head. She had just exited the near-empty room when everything that happened unwound before her eyes. "What the hell was that _for_?" She must have possessed an ample amount of strength, for the young man looked dazed and stumbled on his feet for a few seconds, dizzy from the physical abuse.

"Yeah, really, what _was_ that for?" Kagome asked darkly, cracking her knuckles with an evil, menacing glint in her eye, teeth bared. "I really…liked this sweater."

"No, I'm not spilling any of the beans!" he exclaimed determinedly, and rather dumbly. In a timely manner his brave defiance was no more, and he changed his mind, after having gained another set of throbbing bumps on his head, courtesy to the duo of older women looming dangerously above his now wan and aghast self. "Okay, fine! Just don't hurt me anymore, please…" he whimpered, clutching his head and descending to his knees, bowing submissively with his forehead to the shiny cold floor. "It was Deidara-senpai, he asked me to do it and I couldn't say no to him! Take it up with him instead! He's on the fifth floor—"

He never did get to finish his sentence, as Tenten had swiftly knocked him out, shaking her fist at the now unconscious boy.

"What a drone," she spat, releasing an aggravated huff. "This is exactly what I was—"

"Kagome-chan!" Hinata called to her friend, who was already quickly heading to the elevator.

"I'll catch up with you later, Hinata!" Kagome yelled back from several feet away. "…I have something to take care of." The last bit was declared suspiciously in low volume, her words barely above a whisper. She turned back for a split-second to shoot her two friends an amazingly bright and cheerful smile, before returning to face the front.

Behind her, both women mentally shivered.

"That smile…it gives me bad vibes," Tenten said uncertainly, scratching her cheek.

"I-I have to agree…" concurred Hinata, gulping.

While Kagome had obviously been irritated with the spineless young male (he was still lying on the floor, immobile and seeing stars) for ruining her clothing, it seemed the second "Deidara-senpai" had come up, her anger had surfaced. Now that she knew it was Nendo Dei—oh _god_, she intended to _kill_! That was what currently went through their minds.

Tenten shouted to the quickly disappearing figure, "Wait up, Higurashi-san!" When Kagome did not bother to stop, she supplemented, "That area's restricted, normal people aren't allowed—!"

Her warning went ignored by Kagome, who could hear naught else but the imagined screams of Nendo Deidara as she tortured him slowly in her fictitious world. Blobs of paint dribbled and dropped, creating a bright trail all the way from Miss Kagura's classroom to the elevator. Whoever had the unfortunate duty of cleaning the following evening was going to be one _pissed off_ janitor.

—

"So you're saying this 'Higurashi Kagome' is going to run in here wailing and lay herself down at your feet, and that's why you want me to be in here—to be a witness?" questioned what was unmistakeably a man, holding a very graphic novel up to his nose, covering all but the top of his head and glittering dark eyes.

"That's right."

"By chance, it's not going to turn into some kinky threesome, is it?"

"…shut the hell up. And no."

"Dammit."

Ten minutes later, the mechanical sound of an elevator stopping at their level of the building resounded throughout the spacious room, with a cute little _ding_ announcing its stoppage. Deidara readied his smug expression and laid back comfortably on the couch he sat on, both arms moving back to relax leisurely at the top edge, his legs far apart. The unnamed stranger, who was reclined atop a sofa reading his graphic 'novel', pushed the book up further to fully conceal himself—his face, to be precise.

The elevator's metal doors parted, revealing to the confident blonde man a female dressed in mostly blue and white—oh, yes, _lots_ of blue now. She had a furious expression on her face, and upon seeing it his heart quietly rejoiced. He would have loved to take a picture of it just so it could physically last forever as a photo, and not just in his memories. The woman stomped forward, unsympathetic to the expensive carpeting as paint dripped off her and onto it in little blobs. A certain pornographic cover was unobtrusively lowered, and the man who was supposed to be perusing through its inner pages peered over the top of them to take in the girl's appearance.

"What happened to _you_?" asked Deidara casually, the question anything but hospitable and the mocking in his tone easy to discern. "You're looking pretty _blue_, un."

"Oh I _know_, isn't it just lovely on me?" the young woman replied, sarcasm dripping off every syllable. "Since my shirt didn't have enough blue on it already, I'm so _thankful_ that you decided to add more for me."

Deidara let free a satisfied "hmph" from his throat, and, purely because of habit, swept his hand over the strip of hair shielding his bruised eye, accidentally revealing it for but a few seconds. "It's not too late, you know. Just get on your knees and beg for Deidara-sama's pardon."

"You're really cocky, aren't you? I thought when I punched you it'd knock some sense into that conceited and delusional brain of yours," Kagome scoffed hotly, arms crossed beneath her bosom as she stood straight before the blonde. Her narrowed eyes flitted over to another figure in the room, who swiftly hid behind the protection of his provocative text upon noticing his presence had been detected.

A funny thought crossed his mind, though, and he had to withhold himself from laughing out loud. _So that's what happened to his eye; he got manhandled by that woman! HAH!_

"The only one who's delusional here is you," riposted Deidara. "It'll be of your best interest to hurry and resign your position at this institute, before you have to deal with even more humiliation." The blonde came forward in his seat and leaned toward the woman, elbows now on his thighs as he scrutinized her with azure eyes. Hands folded, he asserted, "Or maybe you can't, because Hyuga's wasted all that money on your little middle-class self? In which case"—he paused for a dramatic effect, the other man by now having already read the same paragraph at _least_ five times, "—my generous offer still stands, un. You can grovel on your knees, and I'll be lenient and accept it as your form of apology for your crimes."

The blonde wasn't sure if he was imagining things, but he swore he saw a flash of evil in the woman's eyes.

There was a pregnant silence.

"So _that's_ how you wanna play, huh," she said blandly, the ire she truly felt omitted from her voice. Her tone had changed completely. She advanced a few more steps, and was suddenly a lot closer to Deidara, uncomfortably so. She stood directly in front of him, staring down at the man with an unreadable gaze. Where had all her fiery emotions from before gone?

She then unexpectedly grasped both sides of his head with her clean palms.

The expression of the man holding a book was of shock, and without realizing it his body had leaned forward to the action, with him wondering just _what _was going to happen next. This was even better than his novels (which were amazing and all and fulfilled their purposes, but unfortunately grew old after a while)!

"O-oi! What the hell do you think—_oomf_!"

Deidara's nagging mouth was muffled, by a damp kiss.

Though not literally_,_ of course. It was the startling union shared by the blonde's lips and Kagome's stomach (which was still covered by clothing soggy with wet blue paint). Having seized the glorious moment and relishing it well, she rubbed her flat abdomen across his face for a good measure, ensuring he got a mouth and nose full of—_hopefully toxic_—paint.

"Feels great having the smell of paint all around you, right, Nendo?" she asked him in a dangerously saccharine tone. "Yup, this sure is the best art _I've_ ever made!" Kagome pulled the motionless blonde's face back, and studied her work proudly, her smile reaching her eyes. The man's visage was layered with a mask of blue paint, and he had yet to move or speak. She faintly hoped that perhaps he had been so traumatized and caught off-guard by her unforeseen move, that he had gone into a comatose state. Well…_hey_, she could dream.

Ever so slowly, the blonde dropped his jaw, and slowly opened his eyes, glaring heatedly at the woman.

Kagome took a fine thumb and ran it smoothly along one of his cheeks. Then she brought it to her face, and turned it around for Deidara to examine, effectively reminding him of their first encounter. She grinned brightly at him, the signs of rage that had been earlier present in her chocolate orbs now gone without a trace. Two for Higurashi, zero for Nendo.

Suddenly her eyes changed, gaining an eerie blankness in them again for the second time that day. She continued looking down at him, neither angry nor happy, with an impenetrable gaze that sent a small shiver down the blonde male's spine. She removed her hands from him and rubbed her dirtied thumb on the unsullied fabric of his sleeve. Then she brought her fists to level with her breasts, proceeding to loudly crack her knuckles.

"Bring it on then, have a go at me…_whenever_. You can try and break me, Nendo, but just know that I'll _never _bow down to the likes of you."

She patted him roughly on the shoulder and turned to leave without another word, walking back briskly to the elevator. Once inside, just about ready to descend within it after pressing the button that would lead her to the second floor, she continued to antagonize him. Even as the metal doors closed in on her, she glared vehemently at Deidara, and as a parting gift, conveyed to him next an unspoken threat. With the thumb of her right hand, she made the unequivocal motion of slitting horizontally across her throat, silently warning him. Then she was gone, and the cheerful signal light above the elevator highlighted the number of each level in the building, indicating its progress of going downward.

Out of nowhere, the man who had stayed quiet the whole time burst out in joyous guffaws, no longer bothering to hold himself back. "Oh, that was _rich_!"

Deidara bit down hard on his bottom lip, which was a horrible thing to do since a nasty foreign taste immediately invaded his mouth after. "Be quiet Miroku—I'll kill you, un!"

—

It was no surprise to Sasori, seeing the same woman for a fourth time, this time emerging from the elevator. However, he did wonder as to why exactly she had blue _paint_ all over herself, and seemed disheveled as if she had just emerged from a battleground. He had an inkling feeling that she had seen him approaching and recognized who he was, but chose to rush past his form without any acknowledgement (probably out of embarrassment, considering her current improper state of appearance).

He knew by her face and physique that she was in her early twenties, but perhaps her brain was still stuck with the kindergarten mentality?

No matter, it did not effect him in any way. He simply desired some well-earned peace and tranquility, in the restricted area which had been built and provided for four specific individuals.

As he traveled up to the fifth floor, he didn't expect to see what he did when the reinforced doors slid open sideways. His narrowed carmine eyes glared at the immature and juvenile scene playing out before him: Kazaana Miroku on the floor, reaching out for help with the hand of a dying man whilst being choked to death. He was caught in between the perilous death-grip of Deidara's crossed legs—the latter's so-called special "Human-Scissor Technique". The blonde's face was packed with blue paint as if it were women's foundation makeup, and it was starting to chip in various places. He was shouting oppressively at the black-haired man while simultaneously torturing him with a ruthlessness only he could righteously claim. ("IS IT STILL FUNNY _NOW_? UN!") There was a trail of dark blueish liquid tainting the pure white carpet, which was unfortunate financial-wise.

"H-help…!" the suffering violet-eyed man on the floor croaked to Sasori, the redheaded angel that was his only hope.

Reddish eyes hard as stones, with unperturbed indifference he ignored the victim's cry and nonchalantly pushed the button labeled "1ST FL", determined to instead head home for the solace he sought. There was no way he could relax _here_ with all this ludicrousness. Before the metal doors totally slid shut, the last he saw of Miroku were his violet orbs, widening even further than they already had, terror and trepidation within them. Also the hidden message: _How could you betray me? Sasori_ _you bastard_!

As the last of Deidara's yelling and Miroku's struggles faded away, signifying the elevator's merciful descent, the disturbed Akasuna Sasori closed his eyes and sighed, the sound light.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Storm Before the Calm**

* * *

_I figured everything would be all right after I gave Deidara a piece of my mind. Things…actually got worse. A lot worse. And it was difficult, but somehow I managed. How, you ask? Well, the way Higurashi Kagome would obviously. Though if I have to be honest I did receive a bit of help; from loyal friends, and…him, as well. What he_ _did for me on a particularly overwhelming day was a small gesture that really ended up going a long distance. I'm sure he hadn't intended for it to mean anything, but nevertheless it did encourage me to get by. And speaking of which, at times_ _when I mull over it, I find it may have solely been _because _of Nendo Deidara that I ended up with an amazing group of people in my life. After all he was the reason why Buki Tenten had approached me initially. Thereafter, steadily yet surely, through her I met others. Despite the rough roads, we all ended up being such wonderful, tight-knit friends—to this very day… _

Laughter filled her ears from all around her, but the sound was not sweet nor calming. In fact it was quite scathing and full of mocking. The people exhibiting such spiteful noises from their mouths were absolutely _drowning_ in the hysterical 'performance' she was providing them with. Wealthy persons everywhere, their fingers and necks and ears adorning expensive jewelry, bodies donned in lavish clothing of the best materials, brand name cosmetics coating their faces and high-quality shoes covering their feet.

Every single one of these individuals, who had an image to maintain due to their statuses and abundances of riches, were chortling, giggling, snickering, or hooting merrily with joy—altogether at her expense.

"Oi, oi, throw another one at her! Here!"

As for her, she was standing in the centre of all the exuberant chaos, alone in the middle of a wide open circle, being pelted with what appeared to be fresh cream pies. Had the circumstances been different, she might've been rather delighted to come across the many confections and blithely consume them. (Mainly if they weren't being chucked at her.) A dull _splat_ resounded in her ears as a male around her age ran up and brought down none-too-gently on her head, a white-topped treat, making the former bob down and back up.

He retreated back into the crowds, leaving the tin foil container on her, which she assumed made her appear even _more_ hilarious, judging by the newly introduced waves of amused howling. Someone was even _kind_ enough to skip up and flick the silver receptacle along with the breaded crust off her skull, only to fill in their absences with a more fitting cherry. The skinny red branch pointed upward, completing her image.

From the corners of her eyes she saw a single, identifiable man standing in the distance at an altitude higher than the rest of the medium-sized mob. He was relaxing leisurely against the elegant stair railings with his forearms, leaning towards the source of the action with a content smirk on his lips.

Half his blonde hair was swept up into a high ponytail and his azure eyes were filled with smug satisfaction, as well as what appeared to be anticipation. He was wearing a snowy colored v-neck sweater, the sleeves rolled up halfway, with a white shirt underneath; a black-and-white checkered scarf wrapped stylishly around his neck; and dark trousers.

She just knew the loathsome male was watching her patiently, hoping for her to drop to the floor any second now and begin bawling. For her to admit that she was a horrible, despicable creature, for ever thinking she could stand up for a friend against the 'great' Nendo Deidara. In thinking so, Kagome couldn't help but restrengthen her stubborn will. Pleasing him was out of the option.

A mere three weeks ago, she had made it clear to him that she would not heel to his selfish, arrogant ways. That instead, she would _fight_ him personally; with a promise to dominate him as successfully as she had the first two consecutive times.

Unfortunately, that was not to be.

The night Kagome had driven home and arrived through her door, wearing a shirt that was stiffened and ruined thoroughly by blue paint, she had expected Sango to laugh along with her when she rehashed her grand story to the jovial woman. Instead she had been met with admonishment, and was right away reintroduced to a worried and obsessive mother hen, rather than the normal Taijiya Sango she was used to.

Of course, the brunette had been furious to hear about such a ridiculous and absurd male trying to whip her friend into obedience, and was more than happy to badmouth him along with her. However when she was told of how the indignant Higurashi had directed an official challenge towards him, she had _only_ freaked out and suddenly, expeditiously, became anxious.

Sango, who was normally incredibly laid back and easygoing, had begun vehemently lecturing her on how she wasn't _ever_ supposed to do that. She claimed men like _Nendo Deidara_ (from what she knew of him so far due to her recently attained knowledge via gossip) were much too dangerous to get involved with, especially when it came to unstable matters that revolved around grudges and 'paybacks' traveling back and forth.

She had continued unnecessarily to say even his _name_ simply reeked of peril, from what Kagome had told her in those brief ten minutes of girl talk. Then she had been so bold as to make a straightforward request, in order for her to be free of apprehension and keep her _own_ heart safe from discomfort. Sango, well aware of how her roommate tended to ignore obvious dangers and trek on ahead, wanted for her to swear that she would stay _away_ from the virile hazard at all costs; to _not_ respond to his actions with equal vengeance as she clearly planned to.

To that suggestion Kagome had hotly refused, and informed her best friend that she couldn't let an ignoramus like Deidara roam around assuming he could do whatever he so desired. She argued saying it wasn't morally correct to allow him in bullying gentle, faultless people like Hinata, or commanding younger subordinates to carry out his petty, iniquitous deeds.

She also mentioned (only to try and cater to her flustered roommate's feelings) that since she had _already_ proven—quite persuasively, if she had to say so herself—to him earlier in the day that he would do better than to try and pick on her, Sango shouldn't have had to be concerned. After all if the man had a single intelligent bone in his body, he would cease his futile actions instantly.

In response she had been given a disappointed sigh, and strained words that went along the lines of, _Please Kagome-chan, just trust me this time. You know I hardly bug you about any decisions you make, and that shows how much I mean it when I say this: I know how guys like that are. The more you push them back, the harder they strike again next round. It's better to just ignore them because there's just no end to their antics. Even worse, if everything you've told me about Nendo is true, then he's rich beyond _belief _and has a high status in society. So…it'd be safe to assume that there's nothing he wouldn't be able to get away with. He could do…well…literally anything_ _to you, and go unscathed by penalties_." Before Sango had said her last sentence, she had paused for a fair while and averted her gaze with a blush that told it all.

Kagome had immediately caught on to the veiled reference, and she herself had turned cherry-red before swiftly gathering her bearings and crossing her arms in disagreement. She had heatedly denied the probability of such a grotesque consequence happening to her. ("W-what are you saying, Sango-chan? _N-No _way—_never…_ever!)

Subsequently, Sango's reaction had been to try again in swaying her. Her comeback being that it was not possible for her to know _what_ could happen in the future; that some men really _could _be unpredictable when it came down to feuding with women and trying to dominate them. Kagome had had a feeling that the brunette was just trying to corner and scare her into going along with her officious suggestions. Then the Tajiya woman had dove in for the second attempt, to get her to promise that she would not to react to any more of Deidara's provocations.

Of course, that hadn't worked out very well.

Upset and disappointed, Sango had marched back into the kitchen, abandoning their discussion and saying in low spirits that she was going to prepare dinner. Before she had disappeared entirely from view, however, she had brought it upon herself to give Kagome something particularly crude to chew on. _Not all men…are like Inuyasha. He's the only one who would purposely evoke and tolerate defiance from a woman, just because he gets a kick out of being put in his place_…

Then she had gone and left the living room to its silence, going back to tend to her pot of miso soup. For the longest fifteen minutes, Kagome had been rather miffed and felt betrayed by how her best friend had actually had the nerve to bring up such a sensitive topic. Taisho Inuyasha was practically _taboo_ when mentioned in her presence by another. But she had eventually coaxed the tiny sliver of hurt in her soul away, assuring herself that Sango had good intentions regardless; she didn't want harm to befall her with this whole Nendo Deidara business.

Dinner between the two had started off awkward with Sango apprising her of its readiness in a crestfallen tone that was not suiting of her at all (since she was often so cheery, if not always). They had eaten in silence for the first half of their food portions, with only the dull clanking of silverware occupying their ears. The atmosphere had been so tense that when the grandfather clock situated near their apartment door had given a great _gong_ to announce the arrival of a new hour, both of them had jumped a slight centimeter in their seats. They were being silly.

Then the two women had tried talking at the same time ("Um, Sango-chan?" "Kagome-chan…"), wanting to come to a compromise. To which of course, they had both stopped in the beginning of their sentences and shut their mouths in unison, before politely urging the other to go ahead. After a short, unproductive while of doing that, the brunette had first complied.

She had sincerely apologized for saying what she had, and explained how she hadn't meant to hurt Kagome with her words. But that she _was_ very uneasy about the situation at the art institute, despite the fact that it didn't involve her, mainly because in the past she herself had had a similar experience (which had ended badly for her).

Sango just wanted to protect her closest friend.

At that point it had been near impossible for Kagome to continue harboring any ill will, and with a defeated sigh she had given up. _Alright, alright, Sango-chan. I know you're just watching out for me, so_…_I'll do what you think is best_. The brunette had smiled and placed her hand over hers, proceeding to tell her that she was thankful her point finally got across; truly relieved.

And _thus_—

"Look at Higurashi, she's almost like a human cake!"

—that was her single reason as to why Kagome had wordlessly persevered through Deidara's abominable actions. The dark deeds had amounted to at least six days of worth now, as classes were still twice a week: on Mondays and Thursdays. A modest _total_ of one week did not appear to be nearly sufficient time for many things to happen, but when it came to the tasteless 'jokes' she'd found herself being forced to deal with—it proved to be too _much_.

Without any visible signs of lashing back, she had faced it all with a straight back and her head held high. Various woes had befallen her, all of them in timely intervals having started as small pranks in the beginning which had just been annoying. That is, until the misdemeanors had intensified into greater, almost _hair_-pulling wrongdoings that essentially made her consider throttling the blonde pompous going by the name of Nendo Deidara.

But alas, it would amount to no good if she were to get booted out of the institute—since now _both _Hinata and Sango's feelings were on the line. They would be swallowed by guilt, for having each handed her a burden; the first for _dropping_ her into a deep metaphorical hole by pure accident, and the latter for not allowing her to climb back _out_, due to her own fear and fretfulness.

As for her, it would have been so easy to plainly drop everything involving the art establishment and walk away, never to return.

…sometimes it really did prove to be a form of adversity: being a person who regarded the emotions of her friends as things of high importance—to the point of where _she_, Higurashi Kagome, found herself walking on eggshells. Including that, she was the one enduring the most from her entire dilemma. Just as well, her pride would not permit her to give up; instantaneously ridding her mind of cowardly ideas (such as _fleeing_) as quick as they arrived.

_This Nendo will stop in due time, Kagome-chan. He's only human after all, and even he must have his limitations_.

How little Sango knew—that Deidara was in _fact_ some sort of dreadful, malevolent monster placed on the human earth by the devil to wreak havoc; presented in the pretty guise of an 'artistic' blonde male. His personality was actually somewhat similar to that of a certain Taisho Inuyasha, when it came to their mulish and aggressive natures. Well, _both_ of them were equally horrid in Kagome's book, and that was all that counted.

_I can deal with it, I can deal with it, I can deal with it_… she repeated vainly to herself, her fists at her sides, knuckles turning white as she shut her eyes and waited for everything to be over. The adhesive pastiness on her clothing had been smeared in, unwilling to part from the threads of her outfit and fall to the floor, already having been absorbed. The shiny tiles surrounding her feet were decorated with specks and blobs of puffy white. They were reflecting the animated images of Kagome's tormentors.

In the back of her mind she wryly thought of how the janitor must have been having one hell of a time ever since she started attending the institute. She had withstood practically all of Deidara and his army's barrages, which included varying assortments of tricks and hoaxes up to this point.

Every _single_ damn thing.

Through the disheartening scenario of seeing her finished pottery project (which she had exerted much effort into, at times staying after class to request Kagura's extra help) suspiciously shattered in its safe cabinet; the next time finding out her claimed, electric potter's wheel had been jammed with a thick cluster of bobby pins and other unknown gunk; as well as a number of other differentiating, frivolous crimes, she had held herself back and condoned the entireties to the best of her abilities.

But this—

"Stop! Stop it!" cried Tenten's voice angrily, trying to quell the excited crowd's enthusiasm. "Don't you guys—_Hyuga-san_! Are you alright—?"

—was just going over the top.

Kagome opened her eyes and saw Hinata being shoved to the ground, for having tried to stop a man with sprinkles from approaching her already caked form. The frail woman had a heartbreaking moistness in her ivory orbs, but didn't let the rough gesture sway her determination. She sprang back up while biting her lips hard to keep herself from crying, and persisted in blocking the male with wide open arms.

Hinata probably already believed everything was her fault, and was pressuring herself with the duty of trying to dowse the blazing fire. It was obvious that in her mind she was thinking if she hadn't been so clumsy and fallen on Nendo Deidara that momentous day three weeks ago, none of this would currently be happening. Tenten was also giving her all in the name of the Kagome's defense, and appeared as though she were about to throw a fatal punch any second.

No, she couldn't allow her friends to get involved and be hurt. Not for her sake; for something like _this_.

Inhaling deeply, Kagome braced herself. _I can take it, all of it_, she reassured herself, jaws tightening. True to her deep resolution, her head shot upward and she glared vehemently at Deidara, who momentarily appeared taken aback by her sudden, heated look.

"_Give me all you've got_!" she bellowed loudly, reverting everyone's full attention back to her instead of Hinata and Tenten (the two twisting their forms to look at her, shocked by her brave declaration). Her voice resounded as it traveled throughout the hallways. "_C'MON—EVERYTHING_!" Kagome's glower did not waver as she stared down the blonde who stood at a location higher than her. He appeared astonished by the abrupt revelation, and somewhat disappointed as well.

She would not—_never—_give him the gratification of thinking he had shattered her will, regardless of whether she were allowed to antagonize him in return for his actions, or not.

"She wants more?"

"_Someone's_ crazy!"

Her peers all assumed that the stress must have caused a crack to develop in Kagome's head, because she was _really_ asking for it now; and they were more than happy to comply with what sticky materials were left. A number of the older attendees, more advanced in the years and uninterested in such immature child's play, strolled past the commotion, some glancing at Kagome with sympathy—if not pity.

Even instructors dared not to come between the craziness. Instead they kept the doors to their rooms shut closed, purposely trying to ignore the noises outside despite being aware of the blatant bullying. They feared the prospect of getting fired from the prestigious institute, of losing their extravagant paychecks. Rather than help the victim, they would not risk being in the way of Nendo Deidara's ambitions and wrath. They allowed themselves to be controlled by money.

And Deidara, who should have been overjoyed with the event's progression as the woman allowed herself to be further degraded, couldn't help but let his lips fall into a discontented frown. He now watched with a lack of enthusiasm as she turned her head to the side, trying to avoid from being by anything hit between her eyes. It did not please him that she still had the resolve to keep standing. A quiet "tch" came from his throat, and without delay he turned away from the scene that was no longer appealing to him.

_Why won't you just break, Higurashi_?

—

Footsteps heavy, she didn't know where she was going, or where her legs were leading her. All she realized was that her breathing was erratic, and her hair, face and clothing sticky; covered completely in thin white cream and with sprinkles in random areas. Right now she needed to be away…from everyone. There was an absolute need to be alone in silence, and it didn't matter _where_ it was that she could find such solace.

After she had seen Deidara turn his back to the crowd below him and leave, so had most of the other young adults who had been avidly taunting her. Things had quickly died out from that point, giving her the opportunity to promptly sweep off with the back of her sleeved arms the cream that had not already seeped through her outfit, and spin on her toes. Without waiting for Hinata and Tenten to make their way over to her she had dashed away in a sharp, brisk walk. Escaping from the remaining cruel laughter, the shouts of concern ("Kagome-chan!" "Kagome-san!"), and the dirtied hallway she would never forget.

Despite the furious, unsettled feelings welling up in her heart, almost choking her from within, she would not cry. Rather than weeping, she wanted to brutally pummel someone, or something.

Yes, in such a precarious state, temporary isolation would benefit her more than anything else. Kagome didn't know what to think, or how to feel—who to blame.

The esteemed, prestigious art institute was sparing her no mercy, but she refused to step down. To do so would merely prove that she could be defeated by sheer numbers and the obnoxious intimidation of wealth. No, she couldn't ever allow herself to give these arrogant, affluent snobs their sickening satisfaction of making her keel over.

_Anywhere, I don't care where…_

As though her wish had been heard, familiar black doors came into view. Yet again she missed the notice sign propped up on the ground beside it, as she roughly pushed through the entry in a desperate search of peace. Her instinctual senses had lead her to this area of the building, almost hinting to her that this was where she ought to be; and she hadn't thought twice of it. The young woman was met with chilly air, being reminded that the season of fall was soon to slip away and be replaced by its relentless sibling, winter.

Kagome strode forward on a path she had walked once before, and sped through the beautiful foliage of trees and plants, barely able to appreciate them in her unexplained haste. The smell of greens was heavy in her nostrils, but far from unpleasant. As she continued moving, the rigid coils in her shoulders gradually loosened. The outdoor garden's serene atmosphere was a balm for her heart, which had moments ago been beating furiously against her ribcage.

A thankful sigh escaped her lips.

It were then that she came upon the pond she had seen nearly a month ago. This was precisely the area where she had surreptitiously watched the redheaded man, perched on one of the boulders, strumming his acoustic guitar. He was not here today, and for that she was relieved. She didn't need anyone else seeing her in such an embarrassing condition.

After all, he had already gotten a clear look of her sporting _blue paint_, during the day of the incident where she had threatened Deidara on the fifth floor. It was when she had come out of the elevator and been heading towards her exiting destination, when she had caught a glimpse of him from the periphery of her vision. Kagome had immediately lowered her head upon realization in the hopes of him not noticing her. She had the faintest indication that he _had_, however.

Regardless…

Not bothering to scan the rest of the area, Kagome sighed in a reprieving manner. She slowly approached the pond, and allowed herself to collapse to her knees before it. Her upper body rested listlessly over a large gray boulder (the same one that _man_ had been using as his seat while he played his guitar) as she peered into the water with hooded brown eyes. The coolness of the rock filtered through the fabric of her clothing and entered her chest.

Kagome saw that indeed as she had guessed the first time, there were several koi fish pleasantly at home in the midst of the human-made, aquatic assortment. They curiously swam over to her reflection, which revealed to them and herself a youthful feminine face, with smudges of white here and there, and more in her hair. Her mouth was but a line, and her eyes tired-looking.

Mouths gaping open and shutting back in a repeated cycle, the elegant creatures eventually concluded it wasn't feeding time and lazily swam away, uninterested. Specks of red, black and white were aplenty in the water; the flowing images mesmerizing, and an occasional bubble of air rising to the surface.

The young woman released another deep sigh, trying to fully purge her head of all the bad images currently flitting through it.

Her eyes were still half-lidded as she studied the submerged, aqueous plants drifting serenely underneath the water. A particularly yellowish specimen caught her attention, and as though to deliberately disobey and torment her, her mind produced a crystalline picture of a certain despicable man with blonde hair, his confident azure eyes burning holes into her.

Gritting her teeth, the woman shut her chocolate orbs out of frustration and released a coarse and unladylike sound from her throat. The disgruntled noise was an odd mixture of a groan and a violent shout. She slammed her fist down on the massive stone supporting her form, causing an alarming vibration to ripple through the water due to its bottom half being immersed in it. The foreign vibrations caused the koi fish to momentarily panic and hurriedly flurry over to the opposite side of the pond.

"You're disturbing them," came a flat, disapproving tone.

Startled, Kagome hurriedly flipped over onto her back, leaning against the heavy boulder for a much needed balance, a hand over her heart. It was beating worrisomely fast, and because of the fact that she had been caught by surprise, or that her ears had immediately recognized the owner of the cool, composed voice—she did not know.

With bated breath her wide eyes took in the unruffled form of the man before her. He was seated against a large tree (the same one she had sought refuge from when having spied on him three weeks prior), projecting on her an indicipherable gaze. The present conditions were ironically humorous.

They were both situated in the exact same spot the other had been in during their last encounter.

Today he was dressed rather humbly, compared to how she had seen him several times before. He wore a fitted gray beanie on his head that was pulled back slightly to reveal his bangs, and a zipped up cotton black jacket, the hood hanging down his back. Well-fitted black trousers covered his legs, of which one was propped up directly in front of him, allowing the male to rest his outstretched arm on his raised kneecap.

The opposite leg was lying on its side in the grass, bent at an angle and supporting atop it a packet of paper as well as his other hand. Held in its grip was a finely sharpened pencil, pointing downward. In his ears were small white earphones, covered wires leading south and disappearing within his pockets.

Had he been there the whole time? Had he seen _everything_? There was but one thing Kagome could say—or stutter, to be more precise.

"A-are you…_s-stalking_ me?"

There was a moment of unnerving silence.

Regardless of how tactless that sounded—and Kagome could tell, judging by how the man arched an elegant brow—there was nothing else she could sensibly come up with to say in the midst of the highly awkward situation. (An untimely circumstance in which her face was made up with sugar and sweet treats, and the top of her head still served as a royal seat for a dignified cherry.)

He deigned to give her a response.

"I don't believe you're in any position to be saying that," the man articulated simply, staring at her with indifference.

This was unmistakably the _second_ time she had shown up in _his_ private and restricted garden. Yet again she had failed in acknowledging the notice sign posted next to the entrance door, stating: _No unauthorized personnel allowed_. He had believed she was unobservant the first round when he had caught her in the area spying on him, but now, in fact, he thought she might have been stupid. Or perhaps needed glasses.

Apparently she was also rather delusional, seeing as how she had inadvertently accused him of "stalking" her. This woman was the one popping up before him in the most spontaneous of times, and more than once had she bothered him with her unwelcome presence when he was supposed to be enjoying temporary solitude.

He decided to tell her that.

"You seem to have a penchant for disturbing me"—the slight _twitch_ of her fingers, still lingering over her chest, did not pass by undetected, "—during the most untimely of moments."

The woman lowered her gaze apologetically, and Sasori could easily discern the poorly hidden traces of unease in her eyes. He doubted she was feeling _that_ guilty over his words. Judging by her defeated body language and state of…uncleanliness, he concluded that she were most likely undergoing a troublesome ordeal. Obviously.

Not that this specific situation called for it, but his thorough analyses of people were never wrong, and he could see through them like glass without much difficulty. The natural gift he possessed made it basically effortless for him to pick out liars whenever necessary, as well as find out whatever truths he desired. That was just _one_ of his many talents that helped Akatsuki in their various endeavors. Though truthfully, it didn't require any skills to see that this odd woman was distressed; she was like an open book—for toddlers. She made a depressingly rueful sight.

Sasori drew himself up.

Ashamed, the woman kept her darkened brown eyes on the floor, biting down on her lower lip. She dared not look up at the man when hearing the sounds of him approaching her, his steps faultless and poised against the concrete floor surrounding the pond. Carmine orbs observed the hand above her chest as it curled into a tight ball. She appeared as if preparing herself for what he might do, which made him mildly curious as to what she could possibly be expecting.

When she saw a pair of flawlessly white sneakers before her, Kagome shut her eyes tight, feeling especially helpless against this stranger. He who had a dispassionate voice that betrayed nothing of him, and an equally intimidating and calculating stare. What would he do to her?

Would he laugh at her for the mortifying state she was in? Scorn her for being such a repetitive nuisance?

Was he like the rest, even though she might have secretly hoped that he wasn't…?

_It's okay Higurashi, this day's almost over. You already survived a hell built out of cream and sprinkles, and nothing worse can—oh my god! I don't get it, why does this guy make me so nervous?_

A slight _ruffling_ slithered inside her ears. He seemed to be reaching for something.

She shifted uncomfortably, eyes still closed. _What is he_—?

Then, there was a _softness_ between the area of her nose and cheek, the presence of high-quality silk gracing her complexion. Kagome's eyes instantly snapped open, and she was astounded as she stared at the male before her with wide eyes. He was kneeling _down _to her level on one knee, his hand holding the fabric that had just made contact with her sullied skin.

But the silky, velvet feeling left as quickly as it had arrived. He pulled his hand away, his movement tranquil and possessing natural grace. Then he examined the tarnished patch of his expensive tissue, deciding that it _was_—oddly enough—_cream_.

"You're always filthy," he nonchalantly remarked, examining his handkerchief, "whether it be paint, or food."

Kagome turned her chin away from him, refusing to look straight at the man. His observation about the _other_ incident did not go overlooked by her, and she had to quickly reign her inner self in lest she start blushing madly out of sheer humiliation.

Besides, there were greater contemplations flooding her mind at the moment.

Even to this day she still did not know his name, despite the several out of the blue run-ins they had already had with each other. Yet here he was, having dabbed at her untidy face with his handkerchief (which was probably worth much more in value than it deserved to be, seeing as how wealthy people often loved to splurge large amounts of cash on insignificant items). And despite his direct and blunt mention—which _could_ have been taken as a rather snide comment—the way he had said it was so casual and candid, that it hadn't come off as offensive.

From what she had seen of him thus far through the distance and in their desultory encounters, Kagome thought him to be a frigid man with an air of chilliness around him. She had expected him to be the same in every other aspect. But his touch…though it'd been so brief and almost elusive—as though it might've never actually happened—it had been so…

…_gentle_.

She opened her mouth, unexpectedly finding herself wanting to explain for her messiness, but closed it. Kagome repeated the inane process twice more at the least, effectively mimicking the many koi fish behind her with her paradoxical actions. She then felt the better half of her conscience give her a mental kick. It was asking her why she would ever have the need to converse with a total stranger what she had not been able to confide in Sango, Hinata or even Tenten.

_I_…_don't know._

From her peripheral vision she saw him rise, an offer his hand to her. At first Kagome thought he was helping her to stand up, but was proven wrong once she turned to him. On his extended palm was the tissue innocently sitting on top of it, the stained side facing up. Carmine orbs looked at her expectantly, and she timidly reached up to accept the silk tissue, unconsciously bringing the item to her chest afterward.

Kagome didn't know what to say, her brain had been struck by a mini ice age. _Should I tell him 'thank you'…?_

Without another word, the man turned away from her and walked back towards where he prior been seated. He lightly patted the side of his pocket to make sure his earbuds, which he had placed inside earlier, were secure within. At the tree once he reached it, he momentarily leaned down with suppleness to retrieve his belongings: a packet of paper and a pencil. Then he silently proceeded to leave the area, his empty right hand in his pocket, and the other down his side, holding firmly onto his possessions.

"Wait!" Kagome exclaimed as she ascended from her seat. She had finally found her voice again.

The man halted and turned his head slightly, just to let her know he was listening. He wondered what she could possibly want _now_—not unlike the first time they had met in the garden, when she had ran back to him, in need of directions.

"…are you," she started slowly, somewhat unsure, "really a member…of Akatsuki?"

His eyes were fixed on a once exquisite flower that was now withering away, in response to upcoming winter. "And by that, what are you insinuating?"

Kagome glanced down at the handkerchief in her grasp, before refocusing her eyes on the man's back. "You just…don't seem like a criminal."

There was a ponderous silence.

"There is more to Akatsuki than you will ever know," Sasori finally answered, his tone cold. "Do not compare us with the low-class street villains of whom you may be familiar with."

The cutting edge in his voice was unmissable, and Kagome had to fight the urge to flinch. She gave a small nod from behind the male, though he couldn't see. Sasori inaudibly continued his path back to the entrance of the building, not sparing another second for the young woman, whom he was discovering to be a sporadically recurring event. He was unsure of whether he should've been annoyed, or skeptical—or both. From what he had seen already, he knew she was far from the norm.

"I'll get this back to you!" she called from behind him.

Sasori didn't bother to stop or give her a signal to tell her he'd heard her, and soon disappeared among the trees. He momentarily considered walking back and informing the woman that she was not allowed to be at the garden, but dismissed the thought. She was already in such a chagrined state, so he would show her mercy for her unintended ignorance, just one more time.

Even Akasuna Sasori had his moments of generosity.

He raised the hood of his jacket to envelop his head and lowered the beanie to cover his bangs. Whenever there were days he absolutely _loathed_ having to expect the rowdy presences of his "fans," (which were men and women alike) it helped enormously to dress in a nondescript manner that was different from his usual style and blend in with the 'normal' crowd. He could hardly bear to put up with the bothersome mobs that Deidara and Miroku seemed to cherish and enjoy so much.

Still stationed at the pond, Kagome stared at the faraway spot where the redheaded male had completely vanished from view. She lowered her head to inspect the item she had surprisingly ended up borrowing, the cloth lying flat on her open palm. She ran a careful thumb over the satin blue fabric, and felt the rest of the remaining tension in her body evaporate. What she failed to notice was that in one of the corners, the insignia of a black scorpion was inscribed. Slowly, she raised the glossy material up to her bosom, feeling a comforting emotion wash over her from doing so. The mysterious man with a frosty atmosphere, whose name was still a mystery to her—a member of Akatsuki. He had shown…_kindness_, to her.

For just that, she was grateful.

"Thank you…stranger."

—

A silver-haired male traced the edges of his teacup—twice—while golden eyes stared listlessly into the contents. It was not long before he brought the delicacy up to his lips for a gracefully noiseless sip. His long silky hair was tied into a low ponytail and brought forth to travel down the front of his well-toned right shoulder. He leaned comfortably into the couch behind him, listening to the conversation taking place, but giving no indications that he were.

"That's kind of going too far, don't you think?"

"It's her fault for being so sassy towards me in the first place, un."

A moment of quietude. Then…

"…indeed. She _is_ quite feisty," said the male who had initiated the exchanging of dialogues, the tone of his response revealing his perverted nature. "I wonder if she's one of _those_."

"You're fucking disgusting, Miroku."

The man, hardly offended, sighed dramatically. "I'm only a man, Deidara."

"No, you're a freak. That's what you are, un."

"I'm not the one who says 'un,' after every other sentence. _Un_."

After that, the third individual in the room who had yet to speak, and felt absolutely no desire to, tuned out the rest while finishing his finely ground coffee. The vague sounds of fists flying, furniture being shoved aside, and roughhousing flew in and out through his trained ears. He closed his voluptuous amber eyes and expertly ignored the riot that frequently occurred in the expansive room that had been designed for Nendo Deidara, Houshi Miroku, Akasuna Sasori, and he himself. The inconsequential problems always transpired mainly because the first two of the four always had some juvenile argument to quarrel over. They truly were children, at best.

He felt more inclined to be in the presence of the third male compared to the bothersome duo. At least the redhead was bearable to be around, which was most likely because neither Sasori nor himself spoke unnecessary words; only communicating when necessary or for some refined small talk. Interestingly, instead of finding each other's presence to be unnerving due to their similarly withdrawn natures, they both felt perfectly at ease. It was only ever uncomfortable for whoever was unfortunate enough to be caught between them as the third wheel.

Nonetheless, he couldn't afford to waste time pondering over useless thoughts.

He had a choreography to put together and plan for an upcoming production, along with the inconvenient pains of having to choose the ballet leads. The men were fine, but women could get troublesomely ferocious and nasty—particularly when they were expecting to be told that they had won the star roles, only to find out they had failed miserably in doing so instead.

Oh the woes of being an artist; especially when working with a form of art that involved much too many females.

—

The bathroom was steamy and humid, the windows fogged up to the point where nothing could be seen on them except hazy white. There was no noise aside from the pattering of the water raining down from the shower head, pelting a nude feminine body; relaxing the woman. Her dark hair was slicked back, the constant moisturizing holding it firmly in place. Two hands expertly roamed her developing body, spreading the lather of soap in all places necessary. When fingers without purpose absently touched her collarbones, the female gained an imagery in her mind.

It was of that man, the one with carmine-colored eyes—and his gaze was on her.

Kagome opened her eyes, interrupting her own fantasy, a pretty blush staining her complexion. She reached up and felt for the area between her nose and cheek, where the stranger had touched with his handkerchief. For some reason she found herself unable to rid his features from her mind. He was quite good-looking, she would admit. Not in the way that muscular, macho man were, but in an elegant, luxurious style. She was momentarily reminded of Inuyasha's brother, Sesshoumaru, though she didn't quite gain the same fluttering feeling in her stomach when she thought of the elder Taisho brother compared to the unnamed man.

A gentle knocking at the door called for her attention, along with, "Kagome-chan, are you all right? It's almost eight." The volume of the female who had spoken was high enough just so she could ensure that she would be heard over the sounds of showering.

Recognizing Hinata's voice, she responded, "Oh, okay! I'll be out!" before finishing up her cleaning session. She couldn't believe that she had been standing in the stall for nearly thirty minutes already, as she had started at 7:30. There was still the need to dress up, do her hair, and get prepared to leave the house, so she needed to make haste.

—

Kagome emerged from the door of the restroom, clothed in only a white bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a practiced turban with towel. Large amounts of steam escaped from the space behind her immediately. The lack of humidity in the air was refreshing to her rejuvenated senses. She made her way to her bedchamber, and found Hinata sitting modestly on top of her mattress, going through an old scrapbook she still kept around for memories.

Her friend raised her head upon the sound of a new entrance. "You took so long, Kagome-chan. I thought something might have happened in there…" Her soft voice held concern, as did her pearl orbs.

"Ah, sorry to have worried you, Hinata-chan," the woman replied sheepishly, heading over to her oaken dresser in search of undergarments. "You know how I love taking my time in the bathroom!"

Giving a small smile, the Hyuga returned to her browsing of Kagome's baby pictures. The next ten minutes resulted in silence as the young adults were carrying on with their separate activities; the first waiting patiently and occupying herself with amusing and cute, giggle-inducing photographs—the occasional _swish_ of a heavy page making itself known—and the second going through her closet, wearing nothing but a bra and matching panties, contemplating what she should wear, and her robe discarded to the side. Hinata determinedly kept her eyes glued onto the inner contents of the scrapbook, strictly keeping them from wandering elsewhere. She felt it were _strange_ to see another female half-naked when she herself was fully clothed.

She had these randomized, nonsensical phobias here and there, and Kagome found the fact rather comical.

Hinata and Kagome had directly driven to the latter's apartment after their departure from the art institute, as the sweet-covered (and suddenly _cheerily optimistic_, to the former and Tenten's amazement) Higurashi had to clean herself up for the dinner arrangement their brunette pal had invited the both of them to. The female Buki had said that she wanted them to become acquainted with her two girlfriends (since they all partook in the same pottery class together apparently), who went by the names of Haruno Sakura and Muzukashi Karin.

Thus with the duo's consents and plans to spruce up, they had arrived home. Sango had been absent upon their arrival—much to the indigo-haired woman's disappointment—since she was off on a make-up date with her boyfriend. (They were trying to patch things up between them in the relationship.)

During the car ride together (since Kagome had picked her up from the Hyuga compound earlier in the afternoon to head to the institute) Hinata had been more reserved in speech than usual, and the raven-haired woman had probed her to no avail, wondering what was wrong. Eventually the former had confessed that she felt immense guilt for having made Kagome take her place; for having Nendo Deidara directing his wrath upon _her_, when she herself was the one who deserved it for being clumsy in the first place.

To that, Kagome had actually _laughed_, and assured her that there was no need to worry. The ivory-eyed woman had been surprised by the carefree reaction, especially after everything that had ensued in the past span of three weeks, but restrained herself from continuing.

She couldn't help but ponder if something _good_ had happened to her close friend.

_Bzzt, bzzt_ was the slight drumming sound as Hinata's phone vibrated, announcing the arrival of a new text message. She gingerly grabbed her cell device and flipped the screen open. At that moment, Kagome had found an outfit that would be perfect for the chilly night, and immediately began to don it.

"Kagome-chan, they said they're already there," informed Hinata quietly. "Should I tell them we are on our way as well?"

"_Already_?" parroted the raven-haired female, peering into her rectangular mirror to check herself over. She brushed aside a stray piece of hair before replying, "Yeah Hinata-chan, tell them we're leaving the house right now." Kagome then proceeded to pick out a bag that would go along with her simple but nice attire. A rhythmic _tap tap tap_ filled her ears as her friend formulated a digital response with her phone's keyboard.

_Bzzt, bzzt_.

She was brushing her hair when Hinata spoke again. "Kagome-chan? Tenten-san wants to know if you have a cell phone." There was a pause, with no reply; and she gently continued, "Will you be getting one soon?"

Slightly embarrassed, but reminding herself that it couldn't be helped when being surrounded by wealthy people who were able to afford whatever they wanted, Kagome scratched her cheek; brush still held. Well she _did_ have money to purchase a cell phone along with a plan for it if she so desired, but after having survived without one for so long, she'd found it was quite unnecessary. Thus having chosen not to spend hard-earned cash on buying a device she did not absolutely need.

"Umm…no, not _yet_," she said, laughing nervously. "But, soon enough—one day…!"

—

Popular Japanese pop songs played in the background of the restaurant, at a volume below that of the happily chattering costumers. There was a tantalizing smell lingering in the air, hinting that the meat the house offered was fresh and of excellent quality. Many tables had bottles of sake to go along with their fatty meals, and the atmosphere was cheerfully enjoyable.

"Over here—Hyuga-san! Kagome-san!" alerted Tenten, waving her arms to signal to a standing duo who recognized her immediately. They then made their way towards her table, which was already complemented with many scrumptious side dishes in preparations for the main course.

"Hi, I'm Haruno Sakura," a congenial pink-haired young woman automatically greeted, shaking hands with both new entries who had joined her across the tabletop. Beside her sat another female who had reddish hair and wore black-framed glasses, arms crossed and looking off defiantly into the distance; resolute on staying unspoken.

Tenten jabbed the saucy woman in her side, causing her to jump up in her seat and glare at the brunette, before clearing her throat. "_My_ name is Muzukashi Karin." Instead of offering her hand she merely raised it before her as a distant, half-assed gesture.

"Hyuga Hinata," said the shy female in a low tone, barely audible over the various noises in the restaurant, and a bashful but welcoming expression on her face.

Kagome found it to be her turn, and smiling, said, "I'm—"

"Higurashi Kagome," the one named Sakura stated for her, beaming. "Tenten is always talking about you nonstop. We've heard a lot of good things about you, Kagome-san." To her bold revelation, the brunette Buki leaned forward from Karin's other side to give her pink-haired friend a jestful _how could you!_ look.

"Oh," uttered Kagome, raising a hand to her mouth out of modesty. "I also—"

"The chick who had the guts to hit Nendo-san," Karin suddenly scoffed, pushing her glasses up with a single slim finger. Light reflected off her lenses and veiled the eyes beneath them. "So, Higurashi-san, can you _drink_ well? You seem like the type who'd like to get pretty loose."

Kagome blinked, unsure of how to interpret the redhead's advancement. "Well, I'm not really into—"

Tenten took the initiative to pinch her upfront friend, knocking her down a peg as well as eliciting a small wail of surprise—and pain—from her. She then furiously whispered things into the redhead's ear, to which Karin apparently did not approve the contents of, judging by her dissatisfied countenance. Eventually the challenging woman sighed, and muttered incomprehensible words before directing a (_fake_, Kagome and Hinata both noted mentally) smile to the two before her.

Grinning nervously, Sakura was more than relieved to catch sight of their waiter. He was bringing towards their direction the plates of assorted raw meats they had ordered previously, along with Karin's shiny green bottle of sake. "Oh—time to eat already!"

—

There are many different types of drunks in this world.

Some people are _funny_ when they're drunk, some are _annoying_ when they're drunk, some are just plain _loud_ when they're drunk, and some get _horny_ for wild, sexual intercourse. As for Muzukashi Karin, she was a very, very _friendly_ type of drunk; her whole personality literally did a complete one-eighty when she was intoxicated. In fact, it was more pleasant being around her when she was _not_ sober—alcohol was like a miracle medicine for her.

"Kagome-chaaan," the woman slurred, her face as red as a tomato, "you know I don't meeaan to be a bitch to youu. I'm just like that to everyoone." She had somehow managed to leave her seat and make her way over the Higurashi, now sitting beside her and enveloping her in a genuinely apologetic embrace. Tenten was snickering to herself with a mouthful of food in her mouth, finding the scene terribly amusing, while Sakura was trying to hold back her laughter. Hinata was patiently trying to help Kagome pry the tipsy woman off of her.

Nervously avoiding eye contact, Kagome assured, "…don't worry, it's not a problem, Karin-san—"

"Karin-_chan_! Call me Karin-_chaaan_!" Dear gods, she was using the _baby_ voice.

"O-oh…it's okay, um…Karin-chan…"

A girlish, uncharacteristic _squeal_ left the redhead's mouth, and Kagome didn't know whether she should have been happy with the _overload_ of friendliness, or slightly alarmed as the thin yet strongly wrapped arms around her waist tightened in their determined hold. She awkwardly patted the sozzled woman's head, while giving Hinata a meaningful glance, signaling her need for legitimate assistance. Karin leaned in so close to her face that she could clearly smell the harsh, dizzying scent of alcohol.

"Ka-go-me-_chan_," the heavily smashed female whispered huskily into the other's ear.

An uncomfortable shiver ran down the Higurashi's spine, and she looked pleadingly to the other three sober women for immediate help. She felt as though she were being assaulted right now, and it was _not_ a good feeling—plus, it was by _Muzukashi Karin_, who she could have _sworn_ had an aversion to her. She _was_ the redheaded woman with black glasses who would constantly direct fierce glares to her during Miss Kagura's class, _wasn't_ she?

Hinata was taking in the intimate scene with difficulty, her mouth wide open, petite figure teetering side-to-side precariously. Tenten, her cheeks bloated with several pieces of meat, and Sakura shared amused glances, before deciding it was eventually time to end their fun and salvage the victim.

The brunette took the initiative. "Oi, Karin—"

"_My_, something interesting sure seems to be going on _here_," said a new, masculine voice.

All the women (aside from Karin who was now leaning into Kagome's bosom, much to the latter's poorly suppressed shock and further embarrassment) either turned in their seats or stared at where the noise had come from to find a man that all three aside from the Higurashi instantly recognized.

"Miroku-kun!" Sakura exclaimed, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," reciprocated the male smoothly with a handsome smile. He appeared to be quite the gentleman, until—

"Dun you _eben twy_…" Tenten threatened darkly, her voice muffled due to the overfilling amount of food she had stuffed inside her mouth. Both her and the Sakura glared daggers at the seemingly innocent individual, warning him with their dangerous glowers. Wondering what the reason was for their sudden hostility Kagome's eyes wandered down, and caught sight of _where_ exactly the man's _hands_ were heading.

Laughing jovially, he retracted his limbs. "What can I say ladies? I'm an artist of _sensation_." It was not long until his leering eyes lapsed their views from the irritated women, and shifted over to Kagome and Karin, presumably with the desire to visually drink in the scene of two females 'getting it on' before him. But when he saw her, he seemed to recognize her right away, and his interest morphed into something more modest. "Oh, Higurashi Kagome?"

Her name appeared to be spreading quite far and wide, and unlike the scenario with Sakura she doubted this was also due to Tenten's doings.

Unable to recognize the man, Kagome mannerly asked, "Yes, and you are?"

"Ah, never mind. It's probably better if you don't—"

"Miroku! Were you planning on leaving me with the bill again?" There was an indignant "hmph!" following after.

Upon hearing the eerily familiar voice, Kagome's head shot toward the source of it, ignoring the groaning Karin still latched on to her—suddenly immune to her forward advances. She met with a pair of azure eyes that she were acquainted with far too well, staring directly at her as well, obviously surprised to see her in the proximity. Hyuga Hinata, Buki Tenten, Haruno Sakura and Houshi Miroku all shared wary, fearful looks between one another. They acted as though an invisible bomb were ticking, and about to go off at any second now.

There was an ominous spark formed between Higurashi and Nendo's eye contact, a jolt of electricity about to—

But unforeseenly, Kagome simply dismissed the blonde as uninteresting and reverted her complete attention back to the prior man. "Miroku-san, is it? I think I've seen you around," she said with a suspiciously wide smile and a dangerously sugary tone, completely disregarding the presence of the other male with all her might. "Ah"—the woman raised a palm and lightly slapped the bottom of her other hand's fist onto it; forcing the clingy Karin to move a bit in order to allow her arms freedom, "—I remember _now_…you're the pervert." The last of her sentence was said with the least amount of enthusiasm.

The man, dressed eloquently in a color scheme comprising of mostly black, purple and white, gave her a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head. He ignored Deidara entirely to reply to the woman he had held so much anticipations for finally meeting. "So you remember me by the novel I was reading that day."

"_I_ wouldn't call it a novel."

He laughed, the sound charming, but faintly revealing his nervousness. Most women, aware of his status and wealth, especially those from the art institute, usually just went along with his suaveness. But this Higurashi—she was objecting to it. Noticing the skeptical look she held in her eyes, he could already surmise that she was not the type who would easily be won over by handsome features and sweet words. Nor cash, unfortunately.

Their table's atmosphere suddenly became unusually tense and quiet, with all seven people in the vicinity thinking varying thoughts (aside from Karin, who was incapable of efficiently doing anything at the moment), and all unsure of what to say.

Tenten, Sakura and Hinata stole glances off a _muted_ Deidara (which was extraordinarily rare, and either meant he was working on an especially arduous piece of artwork, or unable to comprehend something) and saw him scrutinizing the scene before him. Of which Kagome was sitting down, with a noticeably drunken redheaded woman clutching onto her, as if they were lovers—and she did not seem to mind at _all_. He appeared rather perplexed…

No one said anything, until—

"Kagome-_chaaan_," Karin mewled suddenly, drawing everyone's attention to her. She forcibly brought the unwilling female closer to her, and breathed into her ear, causing her victim to widen her eyes and blush in a thought-provoking manner, stammering ("K-Karin-chan?"). Hinata, Tenten—she suddenly began choking—and Sakura were stunned with where things were clearly heading, as the redhead's wandering, uncoordinated hand traveled up the woman's upper abdomen…

"Holy _shit_…!" Miroku cursed under his breath, instinctively reaching up to plug his nose. It wouldn't be a good first impression for him to make on the Higurashi woman, with blood oozing out of his nostrils. Despite that he dared not avert his excited eyes from the enticing scene playing out before him, and his brows went unusually high, almost disappearing into his hairline. "Alri—"

Nendo Deidara briskly fled the scene, Houshi Miroku in tow. The latter was ferociously attempting to fight against the stronger blonde's firm grip, which was latched onto the back of his jacket. He fought gallantly in the hopes of returning to the women's table. ("NO! Let me GO _BACK_!"). Tears of anguish gathered in the man's violet eyes as he vanished in the distance, his arm reaching out as a last resort toward where he had _just_ found so much happiness.

Karin herself unexpectedly fell forward onto Kagome, having abruptly become motionless; emitting a light, consistent _snoozing _sound. The Higurashi, along with all three other women, sighed dramatically in relief. A dazed Tenten beat the front of her chest with a fist, attempting to fully clear up the path her food had gone, wrongly so. Hinata's pale complexion was hazardously crimson and she stared off into a random direction, hoping no one would notice.

Sakura sighed and shook her head. "_Men_. Total pigs."

Quiet, resounding agreements came from the other three conscious women. Karin, still leaning against her human pillow, mumbled something indicipherable, a satisfied smile on her sleeping face.

—

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" grumbled Miroku, lying cozily across Deidara's couch, staring up at the unsurprisingly high ceiling of the blonde's bedroom with bored eyes. "Always having to ruin my fun…"

"Get a new hobby, sick idiot," retorted the other man in his deep baritone.

Miroku raised an incredulous eyebrow and turned his head to his friend. "So you're telling me, you _didn't_ think that was hot at _all_?"

"What the hell—?"

"Yeah! I saw that look you had on your face back there, ya little bastard. You liked it too, didn't you!" The dark-haired man studied the blonde's exaggerated expression of disgust. He continued, speaking enthusiastically, "It's just a part of life normal men go through, Deidara. Higurashi is sorta cute, I can see why you're so damn eager to catch her attention. You act like you abhor her and as if she's the most hideous thing in the world, but you know what? _I_ think it's a cover-up." He nodded sagely. "Children who grow up with problems are normally inclined to act like that. In fact, your behavior reminds me of like, a tragically sad and misunderstood—but _cute_—puppy. I mean still, despite everything I _gotta_ hand it to you man, that's way better than being gay and autistic like those two Sasori and—"

The passionately preaching male Houshi amplified the meanings of his assumptive jokes (all of it purposely meant to piss off the blonde) to his pleasure and amusement. While laughing heartily at his own antic he failed to notice Deidara's slipping down from the over-sized mattress. As the seething man stalked over to the lecher snickering over his own wits, glinting azure eyes presaged that he was about to seriously hurt someone.

"Yo, Nendo, why aren't you sayi—?"

—

"Bye bye, Kagome-chan," Hinata said through the open car window, smiling. "Drive safely." After receiving a similar response ("I will. Have a goodnight Hinata-chan!"), the ivory eyed woman traveled up the outer stairs to the entrance of her sizable household. She turned back one last time to give a polite wave, before soon disappearing in the distance.

In the running vehicle, a dark-haired woman in control of the driver's seat sighed, and looked over her shoulder at the unconscious redhead in the backseat. She had been entrusted with the task of safely delivering Muzukashi Karin home, since hers was in the similar vicinity of Hinata's. Tenten had intently begged her to do it for her as a favor since her and Sakura's abodes were in the complete opposite directions of the redhead's, and she wanted to get to her dwelling as soon as possible (she had ended up with a painful food coma from indulging too much at the barbecue, apparently).

Kagome turned back to face forward and unfolded the piece of paper in her pocket, going over the directions Tenten had written neatly for her. Her brown eyes scanned the legible words, mentally creating a map in her head as she figured out what turns she would have to make and how long to drive on what street.

"Let's take you home then, Karin-chan."

The car made a _vrooming_ noise as it started moving again, and drove away from the Hyuga's residence. Kagome allowed herself the opportunity to quietly think to herself as she kept her eyes on the dimly lit roads. She reflected upon her day. In the morning she had picked up Hinata to go share breakfast and browse a few markets among other things, before the time to go to the art institute came up hours later. Then being in Miss Kagura's room, working on the assignment while chatting happily with Tenten and Hinata beside her on both sides. It was after the session had ended, and the three of them traveled a fair distance from the class that she had been ambushed with…_pie_…and _sprinkles_. The anger she had felt at that moment now seemed so faraway, and she might have known why. Her reminiscent thoughts lost their steady tempo as the highlight of her afternoon entered her mind, in the image of a particularly elegant, refined man.

She couldn't help but smile to herself.

—

Kagome warily eyed the mansion before her, shifting Karin's arm around her neck and reaffirming the steady grip she had on the redhead's small waist. The place which was supposed to be the Muzukashi's residence, was rather…unpromising, and frightening. It gave the impression of being a haunted house rather than a place to live in. Everything was painted black, and every single window was dark, with the onyx shutters fully down so as to permit not a single view from the outside world. If there were a thunderstorm in the backdrop, the entire scene would have been eerily, and creepily, _perfect_.

She knocked gently, three times.

No one arrived at her request for a good five minutes. Kagome felt her feminine bundle slipping down from her hold, and fixed the problem with a bit of difficulty. Karin was not as light as she appeared.

Again she rapped at the door, this time harder.

After approximately forty seconds, angry stomps resounded from within the abode, and Kagome unconsciously gulped, not knowing why she suddenly felt afraid; as if a ghost would pop out. Both the hands she had placed on her drunken redhead closed in on their grips in anticipation.

The door swung open, and a man with whitish hair stood in her vision, an annoyed sneer on his face. "Yes?"

Blinking a few times, Kagome cleared her throat before speaking, "Uh…hello. This is Karin's home, right?" She tilted her head slightly to the right, gesturing for the male to look at the breathing package she was putting all her strength into supporting.

His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke it was with chilly indifference. "Eh, so the slut's here."

"Pardon?" Kagome asked, her brows furrowing.

"Yo, _daddy_!" the male called, turning his head to face the inside of his home; the affectionate title for whom Kagome presumed to be his 'father' not sounding very…affectionate. "Karin's home, and she's fucking wasted again!"

It was not long before a new character made his way to the entrance door, and Kagome had to restrain herself from gawking impolitely at the serpentine man. He stared down at her with calculating, reptilian-like golden orbs. His glare was somewhat intense in their disposition, not hiding his obvious displeasure for having to experience the hassles of greeting a guest late at night. The Higurashi felt abnormal vibrations travel down her spine, this time out of intimidation rather than the discomfort Karin had forced upon her back at the restaurant. Was this really her _family_?

The man's gaze lingered on the loosely hanging form of Karin, palpable disdain in his eyes. "She does not live here."

After the hissing, disapproving voice had spoken, the door was promptly shut in Kagome's face with a rude and noisy _bang_. As the shocked raven-haired woman stared mutely at the silver peephole (just noticing there was a particular design etched around it: a snake) she tried to digest what had just happened. From within the spooky manor's walls, an amused and cruel _cackle_ made itself known. She could identify the sound as belonging to the white-haired man. Afterward, a slight twitch was felt at her side.

Frowning, Kagome turned to see Karin's lowered head. She wondered if the woman was awake, or if her body had naturally reacted on its own to the taunting laughter.

"Well," she sighed, "I guess there's no choice."

—

Kagome stared into the mirror at her own reflection, using it as a guide while she patted the last of the remaining moisturizer onto her face. Her eyes averted to a new view also presented in the glass: another woman tucked into her bed, sleeping peacefully. Her black glasses were folded and placed safely on the nightstand. It was not long until Kagome stood up and made way to flick the lights to her room off. Through the darkness she expertly crept in to her mattress without a sound; it had just enough space left to allow her inside along with the other person.

Back at the disturbing, unsettling mansion, she had been left with no option but to accept Karin into her home for the night. Despite the fact that they had just met, and more than likely the redhead had a sore disliking for her, she couldn't bring herself to just leave her at the doorstep. The men, whom she guessed were her family members, had expressed unashamed aversion to Karin, and she did not doubt that they would have more than gladly kept the woman locked out her house for the whole night. The hair on the back of Kagome's neck rose as she tried to imagine growing up in a home with such people.

Well, at least Sango wasn't home yet (since she was probably spending the night at her boyfriend's) so she could just go to sleep without anymore troublesome ordeals. Those would all come in the morning. She had already been through so much excitement—good _and_ bad—throughout the day.

So until then, it wouldn't be so bad to allow herself some well-deserved rest.


End file.
